


A Gentleman Thief's Fate

by Lizlow



Category: Code: Realize, Code: Realize ~Guardian of Rebirth~
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Lupinception
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizlow/pseuds/Lizlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles/oneshots from my Arsène Lupin roleplay blog; various time lines and AUs<br/>Headcanons will be contained in here, as it is from the blog</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look at Me

“Look at me…”

His breathing hitches; all he wants to do is protect the girl before him, but his strength is the only thing the master thief finds fleeing the scene. It is almost ironic how this came to be: a non-violent man meeting an end like this. His copper hues seem to glaze over as he moves his head to face her. He forces a grin, wide and confident as it always is. He doesn’t want to see her cry; a _gentleman_ wouldn’t make a _lady_ cry.

“Just look at me and stay awake.”

Words become distant from him, the voice he had become so accustomed to hearing fading, as if they were being washed after by the cruel tides of fate. Something bites at him as his eyelids grow heavier, as heat takes its flight. Numbing, freezing, he can’t feel the crimson spill, he can’t hear anything but her worried call. Everything becomes white noise, but _her._

His success flashes before him; every victory that he has made, nothing really could compare to the rescue, _the chance_ , he had given her. He, the first to see her, to promise her, to bring her back to this very world of life… it felt wrong to abandon her like this, to leave her alone like he had been. He hadn’t the ability to speak; his vision blurs, his head falling back. Yet, he stills continues to grin at her while he gasps for life to stay with him.

His mask, which has been discarded to the floor, is ripped; his cape is torn and his hat sits beside her. He can see the look she’s giving him: concern, apprehension, everything a monster would never give to someone. She’s as human as someone can be; at least he achieved helping her away from her doll-like state. She deserves such a world; a world, tainted with corruption, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Cardia…” He forces out; even just saying her name chokes him. He won’t leave her without a last word. The surrounds are placid, a calm before the impending storm that would likely return to their situation… or _her_ situation, as the time seemed to lead. “I…”

Speaking eludes him as he used to authorities. He’s never felt so defeated yet so calm. His binding glass has shatter, broken, unclear, yet his core remains. He’s given it his all to help her get as far as he could, the distance large enough for her training to pay off.

He remembers the days they began her training, how she spent time with each and every one of them. Their game of chase, long periods of laughter, chatter, friendliness, Lupin had sworn to keep his promise. Her smile had been enough to melt all of their hearts; for the lady they all adored, Lupin knew the team could do anything. She, the true catalyst of it all - this princess, didn’t need to be crying over one of her _“servants”_ She’s too precious a being, precious a friend, the sort of lady anyone would go out of their way to assist. He hadn’t seen such a genuine heart; and no matter where she placed it, who she shared it with, he would be there to support her, in life and in death. He was her gentleman thief, a  _dash_ of indulgence on his selfishness there, he presumed, and even in these moments he only wishes to fulfill something more.

" _Can you do that?_ ”  

He hears her; he truly does. What he can place of her voice is soothing, as if this was how his untimely end should be. _No, the gentleman thief should not die like this_! He would have been thinking that, if anything had allowed him too. He left much to be desired among his best accomplishments – truly besting Sholmes, discovering more about the secrets of Steel London, but that would have to wait.

He gives her a weak chuckle. Perhaps his lips were still curled up into a smirk, but his eyes tell a different story. He faces her, but those copper eyes of his are out-of-focus. His chest rises and falls slowly, his heart beat, previous sped up from tension, leaves his face red as it pulses fainter by the millisecond. He is losing color, losing the cheerfulness and vibrancy that came with endless confidence. This was the fate of Arsène Lupin, he concludes. This was the grand finale to his life of justice-filled _crime_. He had make mistakes, sure, but involving himself with her was not one.

His complications are not to be ended by his simple coming-to-terms. Realization has long been with him that she is still in danger. His fall for her means not a thing if she falls as well. **“** …can’t bear to see you cry, Mademoiselle.” His tone is as light as he can manage, but his voice is scarce. A turn of events this was, since not long before he and Impey were exchanging a few jabs before Van came into to _almost murder them_. He wants her to return to them, even if he can’t manage this great escape. He had planned for the worst, but the worst scenario had been decimated, replaced by the _unthinkable._ “Who do you… think I am..? Why I’m the dashing gentleman thief Ar-” His sentence is cut short by a loud and sudden gasp, the cause being a powerful burst of pain that overrides his very being; it hides away his voice. He attempts to rise again, to get closer to her, his _dear friend, teammate, lady of his heart_ , never again did he feel the world would see someone like her.

All he manages to do is collapse a few inches closer to her. Her face, with those gentle beryl hues, is closer; if he could see properly, he’d likely notice the tears that feel from her faces as she watches him struggle. With what little of reality he can understand, with what little he can see of her, with what little the world still provides him, he speaks, “…You have to run…” He wants to tell her this, to warn her, so she can continue to love and brighten the world, “The others aren’t far, so please… I’ll be fine…” He tries to lie, but he appears to be anything but fine.

His hand goes up, to reach out to her; it’s shaky, an obvious display of weakness, but he places his gloved hand on her cheek anyway. He can’t feel the poison eating through his glove, or place the surprised look she gives him, but he wants to wipe away any tears that might be staining her face. “Don’t worry about this… Trust me, Cardia. Can you do that?” 

He breathes out these words as his eyelids refuse to stay open. He has used every last bit of energy to tell her, to make a possibly futile attempt to comfort her. His hand that was on her cheek and the now hardly there glove fall as the tension of his joints release, becoming limp as his heart grants the beat that is ultimately its last. He didn’t want to think of them mourning him; that was a burden none of them should bare. They needed to smile, remember the good times they had, the antics he played, the tricks and gifts and entertainment he presented to them. Cheerfulness, positive morale, a mere thief like him couldn’t _actually_ fathom being such a big part of peoples’ lives, touching them as he has done – had he?

His consciousness fades with a smile on his face, his final thoughts resting on the enjoyment he had working with everyone. He only hopes that they can actually manage to move on without his presence in the room with them. He’d protect their ideals with his very last breath; that was what it meant to be _him._

_Perhaps I’ll steal your heart… in another lifetime, Cardia_.


	2. It's Not That Cold

"It’s not that cold.” 

Saint’s words barely hit his ears. Lupin was shivering, but he stayed outside. His eyes, watery, a rare sight for a man so drawn and tall with pride, for the optimist’s face to drop.

“Ahaha, you’re right, Saint. Just up to the imagination – I have to think through everything.”

Getting caught up in previous endeavors, none the usual for Lupin – who was a corrector of the riches’ ill-earned funds. Yet, these latest occurrences were ramming into even him. Work wasn’t an option while he recovered – sickness didn’t match with _prime_. A leader couldn’t let his group down, so he had been shouldering a stress of his own – no disappointing. His chances of failure were zero, so he couldn’t fail them. Teamwork, in being his usual _gentlemanly_ self, he had and still will continue to give it his best shot of not letting any bits of stress truly show.

_ It’s not that cold. _

He repeated in his head. Chill comes from more than just the vast outdoors. The cool of food, of fear, of Saint’s Absolute Zero Temperature Smile (which Lupin has seen too many a time), of illness, mind, body, relative time. The passage of a thief’s risk of thieves’ honor. And Lupin still believed he was the most honorable thief around – honest.

He laughed, but it sounded almost forced. The tone came out unlike him. He had been bested, supported, admired and hated, and the process was in control.

“Saint…” Lupin began, “I want to make sure we can all do what we can.” He looked serious, covering his mouth with a gloved hand as he coughed, managing a grin afterwards. Somehow, Lupin finally felt more relaxed. Saint’s tone reached him; mysteriousness means a certain amount but despite all the close calls (due to his own – no, Impey’s fault too) Lupin knew he could trust him.

“I’d say even a slight chill can, maybe, get the best of me, but just _maybe_ – I still will come out on top.” He tapped his finger to his lips, “Don’t tell Cardia that anything is wrong. I’ll talk to Fran myself.” There were many reasons for his shivering – sickness, stress, the fact that post invention testing left him soaking and he didn’t dry off immediately – and Lupin had, well, a plethora of explanations on why worrying the team wasn’t _ideal_.  

He moved, his worries, memories, shaking him, causing him to stumble. The cold, so gracious. He puffed up, held his head high, and tries to brush his display but brimming with confidence.

This life with his friends, his team, his adventure – and his greatest rival (who will never be so casually named), Lupin knew he could accomplish what he wanted, keep the promises he made, as long as he kept working.


	3. "I think you have a concussion."

“Ah?”Lupin stirred, eyes opening to blurred vision, and the worst head pain he had felt in quite some time. **“I…** ” He probably looked more confused than he would have liked; but, he could see the smile that – _wait._ The voice that  _followed_.

"I think you have a concussion.”

Who was _he_ to come into _his_ house, to _his_ room, and make _such_ a statement? Okay, maybe it wasn’t _his_ house because it _technically_ belong to Saint and that _technically_ meant that he had the final say, but Lupin’s point remained! The  _audacity_ of it all! Sholmes may have been observant, but _how_  was that _considerate_? (It wasn’t, that’s how!) Lupin _was_ resting from what was probably one of his bigger flop – but flop did not equate to total failure. Admitting defeat was for _anyone but_ Lupin. Regardless, this tumble had resulted in quite the headache-inducing clock to the head. He still didn’t need Sholmes coming in and “diagnosing” him. That annoying smirk, that play of sheer – never mind whatever it was!

_Wait._ Was he even actually in his room? The normally attentive to surroundings thief was hazy on the details; fall, frustration with Sholmes, Saint being the offeror and well…He _tried_ to sit up but it simply left Lupin spinning, ears ringing. He’d call for Fran, but he didn’t want to yell to selfishly bother the others (please, it wasn’t because his own hearing was stuffy) and he certainly couldn’t move. Or ask the _one_ near him, who was so obviously amused with Lupin’s attempts of carrying on his dignity.

“And why are you here, Sholmes?” He asked, but it came out more akin to a bothered grumble. He felt sick to his stomach and frowned even more by the second. The _one person_ that could put him into a much fouler mood _wouldn’t **leave**_. The curtains were drawn shut and he – **what?**

“I don’t remember any of that. Just get out of here. _I_ can handle…” he reached out, attempting at least wave Sholmes off, but he misjudged and lost his balance, lurching forward and nearly collapsing. He would have fallen flat on the floor, had a step aside and a chuckle-accompanied catch not occurred. Okay, that was it. No more weakness, even if… He definitely heard and insult there. And it probably was, eloquently put but _there_. “I’m not taking your orders.”He tried to stand up straight, brimming with his own confidence, his eyes unfocused. He was _too_ good for this, he thought, though his sickness, headache, swaying said otherwise. Can’t show weakness, not to Sholmes! He was his  _arch-nemesis,_ that was that. He made the attempt to act cheerful, _how_  he would around the others, but one-versus-one like this did not make for a cheery air, plus he really would _stay_  serious. He still had the full belief that he _would_  win the war. That would be so, no matter what. 

How did it end up like this? What had he been doing? What had he, Arsène Lupin, done to whack his head so badly? Jump back from annoyance and hit the ornithopter? Fell from not paying attention hen Saint and Sholmes were having tea time, **_again_**? Did he usually get caught by… _ugh_. He was still an _excellent_ thief and nothing would change that. The very best, so it had to have just been the most random, unfortunate accident. He just could, for any part of this _grand_ life of his, recall _how_ it happened.

Was it even Sholmes before him? He could see right, hear right, _no_. That was definitely _him_. The others weren’t this insufferable, and they didn’t have that _arrogant_ , _stuck-up_ vocal inflection that Sholmes did.

“…Surprised you?” Lupin grinned… until he heard the _gracefully-put_ “ _perhaps a bit foolishly, friend_.”

This was – were there two of him?

**_Fine_** , he’d take a break; he’d rest. He was tired anyway, and he needed to make his best recovery in order to get back at Sholmes for the snide comment, for _everything_. But, he was _not_ doing it because Sholmes “requested” it. He had common-sense, and knew that he needed to probably take it easy. He’d be fine, once he confirmed it with Fran.

Lupin honestly enjoyed a challenge, but… just… could **not** stand Sholmes. He regretfully leaned back after assuring his seat and closed his eyes, sighing. At least the headache was being replaced by… _something even worse._ Well, that was one way for the world to repay Lupin’s _heroic_ deeds. A new trick, something even more elaborate to get him back; yes, Lupin had this. 

“I’ll be fine, you know. So take your leave, _Sholmes_.”


	4. Go Back to Sleep

_Go back to sleep?_

Who could _return_ to sleep when they had yet to invite themself to it? In every night of that week Lupin had pushed himself to stay up. There were ideas to think through, plans to go through, and his runs of _procuring_ funds often happened in the cover of the wee hours. He knew when to turn in, but it seemed to be getting later as of late. Recent events had pushed him, current hopes fueled him, _frustration_ played with him. How many minutes had passed since Lupin had met them all? How many hours since he began his work here? Days? Commonality, what more had kept Lupin conscious but the time, his pensiveness, the moment of his pen?

Brown eyes fell upon the speaker, a small chuckle following.

“Tea sounds excellent, so if you wouldn’t mind, Saint.”

He dared not refuse the offer when he knew he was going to proceed with his work for more than a few moments more. The Count was generous enough to care for his well-being, and Lupin cared for _his own_ well-being as well. One does not simply deny the Count, especially when his bad side was a side-step away.

“I’d appreciate some.”

His intensive focus was broken as plans, papers, lists, were all neatly cast aside. Last mess Impey made, oh that was _not_ happen again. _Probably._ Lupin was inclined to not bring on the wrath of this formidable and _unreadable_ man. Relaxing, he shook his head. There was still plenty for him to complete, minor and major accomplishments to meet. Yet with nothing to occupy his thoughts enough to keep him up, Lupin’s eyelids threatened to drop, heavy blinking from exhaustion commenced. _Perhaps_ the _great_ thief had been over-extending himself. A moment’s rest, not a terrible idea. Saint would return with the tea, but as alert as he normally was, he could catch himself and be _awake_ for when the Count  _did_ arrive.

The idea, in theory, was _perfect_. It would have been _rude_ of Lupin to stay asleep, nor did he want to due to the work he still had yet to round off for this night embraced residence. It was a serious affair; although, could he truly do his best when he was hardly awake. His thoughts, barely stirring, his pride still evident, even like this. To say he was slumped over in the chair he sat in was overstating his current position.

_ Just a short rest to return to my extraordinary performance. _

His mistake, to say, came when he actually let himself close his eyes. _Resting the eyes_ was a phrase used for the sort of tired. The ones that liked to pretend they weren’t quite so ready to fall. In Lupin’s case, he was _absolutely fatigued_ but he would certainly refuse to admit it.  

At least he’d finally catch a second’s worth of sleep, at the risk of being either left alone… or jolted awake. Should the case come, he’d laugh it off. At least, he would’ve thought about that more, if those quiet thoughts of _restoration_ hadn’t taken his senses.


	5. "I was admiring the view..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was admiring the magnificent aspect of the ocean when Captain Nemo appeared. He did not seem to be aware of my presence, and began a series of astronomical observations.” – Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, in Five Complete Novels by Jules Verne (Page 69)

Silently, Lupin reflected on the view before him. It was good to take a breather every once in a while. Especially when it had to do with places he could, well, watch his reflection and think through himself, his plots, and his _life._ Simply magnificent! If he hadn’t been trying to maintain a low profile, he would’ve clapped and verbal proclaimed his confidence, his readiness, his resolution. But this time, he’d pocket these ideas to his thoughts and continue his admiration of just, _exactly_ what was before him. _Perfection_ , naturally.  However, the premonition within him spoke of a storm of _detestable, actual bane of existence_ coming, but nothing had turned up. _Yet_.

An amused hum in the distance, Lupin narrowed his eyes and glanced over, seeing that _familiar_ spot of purple that was the _detective_ he just could not, would not. Lupin breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth in a deep, exasperated sigh.  That very obvious and headache inducing spot of purple in the distance, Lupin wasn’t even close and he could sense the smugness in the air. He was just _that_ good.

_No, not him!_                                                                                    

Of **course** , Sholmes would be the _one_ would so _rudely_ interrupt his down time. And Lupin wasn’t even doing anything! Really, he was more of a _defective_ than anything! Didn’t he have better things to do? Still, Lupin stayed silent, observing the approach. The same sort of soundless steps – _how_. In his waiting, Lupin, rather _perturbed_ by the fact that _nothing_ could probably halt Sholmes at this moment, shot him another glare, and then looked back to the _outstanding_ view he had, the calm still having some sort of embrace on him as he laughed it off, “Haha, see, _I’ll_ get him yet. My arch-nemesis, he’s _nothing_ compared to-“  

Heavy footsteps hit the ground, suddenly disturbing the rare, peaceful moment, alerting Lupin to the approaching figure and ending his small ramble early. _Nemo_ , the _airship_ _captain_ of the _Nautilus_ and probably just as troublesome in terms of sound. Lupin tried to make sure there had been no possible way of him being noticed, from his breathing to his mind. Unaware, walking about as he glanced about with that typical look of his. Lupin realized that this was the perfect chance to make his escape when Nemo locked eyes (was his eyes actually on him, no one was sure) with Sholmes and made his way over. Nemo’s _booming_ voice filled the air as the chatter was about _everything and anything_ Nemo could bother to mention to Sholmes. In fact, Nemo was making some crazy, pretty large statements (which was actually very usual of him), and it seemed to be relentless… and guided toward Sholme and not the unnoticed Lupin, who was rather _pleased_ with the result and the _look_ on Sholmes’ face. Lupin had to fight within himself to hold back a very satisfied burst of laughter and a “ _Have fun with Nemo, **Sholmes**.”_  statement because he didn’t want to mess the scenario up! One word and then, _it’d be game over_. 

He looked back to the superb view, thanking everything that it somehow fell together perfectly, and attempted his escape under the cover of Nemo’s _excellent_ and unknown assistance.

_Take that, Sholmes!_

Could Lupin consider that a win? Oh, what question was that? Of _course_ it’d be a victory!

…For the moment, at least.


	6. You're Wrong

He closed his eyes, sighing, rather annoyed. That had become such a natural reaction to the _smug_ detective. A true nuisance, the _worst_ person imaginable – never in his _gentlemanly life_ had had he ever been so peeved, utterly ruffled. There were many other things he could be doing than staring him down – like completing this mission. He even really wanted Cardia to be in the picture, to hear her, to get back to the others but he wasn’t going to drag Cardia on these outings. Or _anywhere_ near Sholmes for that matter (not at all, on his watch, if he could so help it).

In fact, things really had been going well. And yet this break was shatter by Sholmes just _happening_ to show up and _happening_ to **pester** Lupin.

Friends, them? Never! Quite frankly, the offer offended him. Lupin was always confident and prepared, and _somehow, **somehow** _ Sholmes seemed to show up at all the wrong moment, nearly having the upper hand. _Almost_.

Not quite though, of course! As if any outcome that left Lupin on the losing end was plausible! (Or, as if Lupin _wanted_ to acknowledge any that _ever_ could have _possibly, **ever** _ occurred.)

“You’re wrong.”

An expression that could have turned gaunt quickly, one of pure surprise, would have overtaken him, but why would he let his guard down around Sholmes? The _audacity_ of the claim! He never failed, rising from the ashes of the most daunting tasks. And yet he, such a great man as he, was wrong? _Pah!_

“Is that so?” Lupin stated more than asked, laughing it off – or attempting to. “Because I would personally say I’m correct. The information was carefully gathered and-“

“-Made you act predictably.”

Oh, come on! The train was something else and he could get out of a situation such as that; he did exactly so! It was a full-fledged escape master technique that worked well… in the end.

Eyes under his mask showed a flash of frustration, his gaze on Sholmes as the detective simply chuckled. Seriously?

This was not a heist he wanted. All he was doing was correcting corruption while funding the group’s goals _._

“Well, if I’m wrong then how can I-”

“-Escape this so easily?”

** Why. **

“A flight without trouble… hm? My, do you underestimate me, Arsène Lupin? If I am not mistaken, a thief on a mission would not be taking the time to have a small chat with a detective.”

Well. **Honestly**.

“I… Naturally, I am a master of escape.” And okay, Lupin was _certain_ he hadn’t gotten to the actual theft part of the movement.

Knowledge? Skill? And yet _he_ goes on to say that he still has it better. _No_.

_“You’re wrong._ ” Sholmes added _‘not entirely_ ’ and something about recognition of the effort Lupin pulled. “But, I am off duty, and you have yet to commit a crime this night.”

Sholmes smiled, walking off a little but not before mentioning that as soon as Lupin did do anything on that night, the police would be knocking at his door, probably. Was this… revenge for the other day? Jail by itself wasn’t threatening. Lupin could break out without a struggle. It was Sholmes’ attitude that really _got to him_. He pushed it away, supposing that he wasn’t accurate on a heist chance gone well tonight. Not completely _wrong_ of course, but too eager, too kind as to deliver justice sooner. He’d pack it for the night, and complete his goal on the morrow. Still… he had to play the risk of Sholmes being there again. He just hoped the cards he would be dealt would be his typical lucky hand.

_ Just arrest me if you’re going to do that! _


	7. You're Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lupinception, a not so humble, dual-Lupin relationship, more to come

Ah, a mirror, a likeness of the unsurpassed sort. Man, was he _breathtakingly stunning_ and _talented_? Of course, such a statement was rooted in action, skill, time, and the like. Lupin stared at his reflection. Oh, what had the world done to deserve this much _splendidness?_ Honestly, bystanders should be honored to catch a glimpse, the corrupt nobleman should be taking them, for just being there to make things right.

Twice the Lupin, twice the entertainment. They were a double presence but all the same on the caliber of kindness. They shared similar views. But… trouble? Pah! Balderdash! How could _they_ be nuisances? They kept the group together (relatively speaking, Cardia did a tremendous job and the two Lupins would easily admit to their pride in her) and they provided funding (not counting the amount Saint provided but who was _actually_ counting?).

“You’re perfect.” 

His fellow Lupin said. Pride laced his words and the reward of what some of the others may have seen as annoying misfortune, was still as clear as the day it had happened. Perhaps, at least once in his life as a gentleman thief, Lupin had asked himself how he could boost his excellence: the answer had been to _double it_. Two heads are better than one! Though, perhaps in this case, too hot to handle. 

“I can say the same to you,” Lupin responded, “There’s no denying our perfection. Why, fate has outdone herself with this, hasn’t she?” That was a foolish question – fate had been an intelligent and all-too giving lady with this one. Flawlessness outdone by none but the other Lupin.

They could cover more ground and the tricks they could play on their enemies while still making a very success flight; Lupin would even say that these times had been even more productive. He could imagine the reaction of Leonhardt now – the confusion, the disarray of his shoulders as his voice came from _three_ spots. What a riot it would be! What would the wanted rumors say – hopefully charges of their _handsomeness_ and grand deeds.

Ignoring a yelp from Impey - who Lupin thought should just give up on finding a fix for this. What _repair_ was needed? Hell, even the look Van gave should stop. Though, there were _some_ comments Lupin hadn’t appreciated, and Sisi had ended up barking for a while, the astonished look on Cardia’s face had been _adorable_. Saint’s had been expected and as for others _outside_  the mansion’s walls? _Watch out_. 

Such was the ripple effect of a job well-done, and a presence well-met.

Chuckling from the two developed into making the mansion residence that much lively, much more so than it had been previously. A good thing too! What a bonus, lady luck really must’ve wanted him to be happy!

**“** You’re perfect, too – _me_.” Lupin said, smirking. There was properly at least one groan and one yelp on the grounds, but Lupin was caught up in his own bubble of smoothly planning plots. They both were. The relief of having _two_  brilliant minds of his presented itself in more sleep, a slightly lightened workload, more guarantees to protect those that truly mattered to him - _to them_. 

For the time being, it was back to the grind of drawing, thinking, committing. 

Even absolute escape artist masterminds needed to discuss their schemes beforehand; _perfection_ did have _some_ upkeep behind it.


	8. Don't Leave

_ “I will always support you, no matter who steals your heart. You… your smile, Cardia, is one of this world’s greatest treasure.” _

His words, a promise that devoted him to her no matter the outcome. His victory, a lady he didn’t deserve, but his heart was hers and hers, his.”

She, human, poison-less, a brilliant star that graced the living and non-living plain. The _doll_ had a soul, stripped herself of her past, and humanity was her token; she wasn’t a puppet, but a _beautiful_ woman who out-shined even his own _handsomeness_ by years.

Living in the mansion alone with _her_ , his dear sweet wife, as well as their small adopted daughter and Sisi seemed like a dream. But, as he would always tell her. _“Even if it is a dream, I’ll cross whatever gap there is between it and reality and come to steal you away, princess._ ”

And she would always reply, _“I think you’ll be manage to do it no matter what!_ ” with that vibrant smile of hers.

_His_ love for her was crystal, genuine. Any small disagreement they got into usually ended in Lupin giving in to just how _adorable_ she was, kisses planted on her cheeks until their precious, little girl and Sisi jumped up to join in on what seemed to be fun.

No qualms existed – and how could they? The letters from Impey, the checkups from Fran, the updates from Van and Delly, even the occasional warnings from _someone_ , all were appreciated, in fact, everything felt too _perfect_. More so than _he_ was, but it couldn’t outmatch her – she, his family, this was what made it. Their previous struggles, endeavors, her emancipation from her thoughts of being a monster, Lupin had managed this, and kept out of trouble relatively (a gentlemanly thief of justice never _truly_ ended his games though).

“Papa!” The little girl called out, dragging her mother behind her in short pulls. Lupin laughed as waited for them to make their way over to him, and then he practically scoped them both up, Sisi running over to paw at his legs.

“..!” Cardia let out a small gasp but their daughter merely giggled.

“And what do you want Mama and Papa to show you today?” Lupin asked, smirking at Cardia as she turned red. Their happy, peaceful life was one of teasing and playing, sure, with small tricks and _essential_ skills filling their daughter’s head. From basic tactics on Lupin’s ends, to days upon days of amazement spent hiding away in the library in the afternoons as Cardia read stories aloud. Lupin loved her voice, her livelihood, the way she was _just_ exactly the way she was. He was so proud of her, everything she had overcome, all the growth she had processed.

Night, Lupin, content with his life, shook in his sleep, unconscious plagued him, the night invited a time when his reality felt like it faded away, watching her fall in love with everyone but him. But again and again, he would relieve himself but crossing the gap and stealing her away. She was his, and he was hers, forevermore.

His arms were wrapped around her as she sleepily noticed his movement the next morning.

“Don’t leave…” She whispered.

Lupin kissed her forehead and whispered back, “Don’t worry, Cardia. It’s not time for me to do so yet.”

“…Mama?” Their daughter knocked on the door lightly.

“Come in here,” Lupin and Cardia said. The door was pushed open, and in entered the little girl and Sisi.

Days passed along like this easily. Occasionally, Lupin would go out, either during the day with the promise of being back before dinner, or in the cover of darkness to clear up some errands. And often times, Cardia would await his return, with their daughter running over toward Lupin and extending her arms out, which Lupin would comply to but giving her some play time.

“Papa, when is Uncle San going to visit?” She had heard of Saint by word, and had met everyone else but Impey otherwise. “Big brother says that Uncle San was really cool!” Ah, of course it would be the young vampire king to tell the little girl more stories. They all seemed to have a weakness for children.

“Actually, princess, I was just going to pay him a visit! I have some quick business where he’s at, so I’ll bring him back for you, okay? That’s your wish, right?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Then, I can’t turn it down! I, dashing gentleman father Arsène Lupin, will grant your wish. All I do is for you and your mother, you know.”

“Okay! Hear that, Mama?”

Cardia nodded, smiling. It would be nice to see Saint-Germain again, but did Lupin really have to go alone? She knew he said a quick trip, but it was still _days_ of his absence.

The day came, Cardia straightened out Lupin’s clothes and placed her cheek against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat, his familiar breathing. The little girl dashed out of the house and grabbed onto Lupin’s hand, which he immediately swung lightly.

“Don’t leave. You really don’t have to leave… We can send Saint at letter and he can take care of-“

“Remember, my chances of failing are zero, especially knowing I have you and our little gem to return to.”

Cardia gave a hesitant nod, making sure Lupin remembered to watch out for himself. Going on whatever _business_ he had to end to… wouldn’t it be a tricky and likely dangerous process? What if he still had enemies there? She hadn’t a doubt on that, but Lupin was a master, wasn’t he?

“…I love you.”

“And I’ll always love you.”

On the extended outing to France, Lupin strode in caution. Any wrong word could likely set the wrong people off. He generally left no trails, but information spread like wildfire among the underground, especially for an infamous thief like him. He slide to the side and he avoided a rather noisy miscreant, using a different voice to throw off the trail better. Easy. No big deal – it was the dead of night and he liked a challenge, a thrill.

“Cardia… just you and our little family wait, Saint can’t say no to seeing his godchild.”

Soundless paces freed Lupin from sight, but a rusty turn a situation turned a bit sourer wasn’t his friend. 

_…No, I’ll be fine. **I** can escape anyone._ Lupin thought, making sure the letter from Cardia and their little daughter was tucked away in pocket, the one they wrote to Saint.

As for the Count, Saint was just about to put away the last washed tea cup when a rather _rowdy_ crowd seemed to really be causing a riot outside of his French estate.

_“Oh?_ ” He took a carefully step and dried his hands completely, before exiting his home and making his way over. One stare from him  and they dispersed, cursing “ _Damn you!_ ” as they took flight. Quite… _amusing_ ruffians, the lot of them. Thieves seemed to be getting more and more intelligent, reminiscent of Lupin. Although, not even a master would be able to flee clear outnumbering, not when he stressed everything he’d leave…

Was he… late to this..? In the remnants of the crowd was a clearing… Tattered cloth, perhaps snapped from an escape gone terribly south? An envelope, though torn, lay at the side of a thin cane, an oddly familiar one. Saint’s eyes trailed the scene, before a small bout of sorrow filled his eyes. He picked up the envelope and gently opened it, a picture falling out with handwriting Saint instantly recognized – and some he didn’t – contained on the slightly bent paper’s surface.

_Dear Saint,_

_Our little one really does want to see her godfather! We really do appreciate the generous gift of this home and we’re sure to make use of it while not destroying it too much. Ars_ _ène insisted on delivering this alone, but please do come back with him if you have the time._

_ Sincerely, _

_             Cardia _

_ Uncle San! _

_           Mama says I can write something here, so I wanted to tell you that though I’ve never seen you, Mama and Papa really like you, so I do too! Please come and visit! Papa promised you would! _

Saint gripped the letter and quickly called for some other arrangements to be made. He’d honor the promise his _friend_ made while granting him what he needed. Information must have been a faulty lead, Saint knew he kept his own home here covered for his own leisure, but…

The man of good nature and relative mystery left no time for haste. Everything had to be put in order.

The time fell to Cardia. She held her daughter close, Sisi sleeping at her feet. She nodded off, dreaming that she was again saying _‘Don’t leave_.’ to Lupin as he responded with his usual cheeriness and teasing, _“Miss me that much, Cardia? Oh? Now, where’d that look come from? Are you… embarrassed?_ ” She smiled in her dream, her breathing relaxing as Lupin’s words came back to her.

_“I will always support you_ _.”_

“I know…”

_“…No matter who steals your heart_ _.”_

“That… was you.”

_ “You, your smile, Cardia, is one of the world’s greatest treasures.” _

“S-Stop that!”

A knock at the door jolted her eyes open and she excitedly carried her sleeping daughter with her to the door before pulling it open.

“Welcome home, Arsène!” She exclaimed before her eyes settled on not the look of her husband, but the melancholy atmosphere of Saint.

“Where’s..?”

Saint smiled at her sadly while carefully picking the little girl up from Cardia’s hands as the wordless news settled in.

She could have been more insistent. Her stare, it should have worked better. Their back and forth banter on the subject felt all too short.

“…Ma…ma, why are you crying?”

Cardia’s wide eyes faced her daughter, “…Because, sweetie, your father kept his promise. That’s Saint. He’s here to visit you…”

She couldn’t say anything yet, because she refused to accept it now. She knew it was dangerous. A thief’s life is forever full of danger. One deep thought, one careless mistake, one linger on happiness.

That night, she dreamt of Lupin, and the happiness their little family had. The memory of the picture she had sent to Saint resurfaced – a family photo gone wrong as Sisi jumped up and was in mid-tackle against Lupin. That moment was something the young woman staining her pillow with tears would always cherish. Just as he cherished her. 


	9. Stop and Stare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lupinception, the ego never ceases to amaze

It would seem to anyone that there is hardly any fight remaining in his gentlemanly bones; he blinks slowly, as if processing what the other was saying. What had happened? _No_ , he _really_ did not just almost get caught trying to do  _something_ that he thought was necessary (which may or may not have involved fuming over an _uninvited by him_ guest), his dive to the side causing him to slam into a wall, nearly knocking him out and certainly making it harder to move.

“Look at me. Just look at me and stay awake. Can you do that?” 

His fellow Lupin speaks, and Lupin himself can’t help but immediately, well, brighten up. It’s as if even hearing the voice of someone familiar is really beneficial for him. The situation itself seems dicey, even just there being two of _him_ , but the escape is only easier because of it. They wouldn’t get caught, not even if he is in some kind of pain! His strength returns to him, an outstanding return to the fully conscious for the moment world, one would say.

“I can. Of course I can,” He grins, laughing, “We’ve still got heists to pull, people to help, others to _best – we’ve_ yet to really show that _detective_ what were made of, though we’re _definitely_ better than him.” Lupin jokes, but he’s certainly believes what he says. “I… _We_ are the great and dashing gentleman thief, Arsène Lupin. A _small_ hit to the head is nothing that I-” He halts mid-sentence to hold his hand to his head. He’s sleepier than he initially would have placed himself to be, a ripple effect leftover from his previous impact, which the quick thinking that the _intelligent_ minds of the two of them easily put together had left to being relatively private. “I can try, but if I do fall asleep, I’ve got the most trustworthy person out there – _me.”_

It’s relieving to have a perfect partner in this game; what a grand partner the other Lupin is! The most trustworthy, timely, cautious, clever, Lupin decides it’s definitely safe to fall asleep if it’s necessary. Which it isn’t! Who could sleep when their presence is being graced like this?

He stands up, trying to keep his balance. Revitalize, a mission moves him to at least stay awake until they’re in bed, resting off the chaos and _entertainment_ of the moment.

Rustle, _both of him_ , Lupin, act fast, not hesitating to throw a smoke bomb to keep chasing completion after the recovery. He could certainly stay awake, and thanks to there being two chances of a working distraction, they manage to run.

“Hey, look at me.” The fellow Lupin pats his hands against Lupin’s cheeks – light smacks to get him to keep moving. And it worked. Picture perfect, of course Lupin can regain his foothold on reality. Approach, the Lupin’s scale and clamber into one of the rooms of Saint’s mansion through a window – the other nearly losing his footing. But Lupin’s got his back – why wouldn’t he have his own back? – and yanks him up. The two then fall backwards, causing quite the crash.

The door opens to reveal Saint and Sholmes, both have expressions that are more or less smiling ones. Cue groaning from both Lupins as the probably more injured one tries to fashion up a passing sentence, “Ahha, see we…” Silence, Lupin falls into it as soon as he sees the loo in Saint’s eyes. Not the time to char.

The other Lupin grumbles more about Sholmes being there at this hour before glancing to his _handsome_ double. At least they got back inside the mansion! That had been their final goal. They give each other a look of glory, basking in it for a brief moment, before reprimanding of a certain sort starts (something about breaking things… Lupin is _pretty_ tired by this point) and Saint simply decides to get Fran, just in case.

It isn’t usual for either of the Lupins to return with minor injuries. And – of course Lupin can look at the other. What a better place to look to, to fall asleep to the sight of. Better than his arch-nemesis, at least.


	10. Lived Through Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupinception, sort of. A story of heart pains and love...

Perhaps, this was truly the _only_ time he had ever felt like this. The root, oh did she seem to be the cause of quite the collection of _firsts_. The only time a woman’s smile had truly made him melt, the only time he ever stole away a person, the only time a person had ever stolen away _him_. He could admit it: he _loved_ her. The gentleman thief had found the perfect lady to compliment his whole being, one who was willing to learn, who appreciated him, the world’s greatest treasure lay upon her smile.

The time he offered her his hand in dance, a careful gesture much less clumsy and energetic than Impey’s before, after a complete showcase of an appearance, coming in mask and all, had been quite the day. The feeling of her hands – though gloved – made him feel at ease. Her confusion settling to a smile, her words of _“Thank you, Lupin! This is so much fun!_ ” that were laced with amazement. She was adorable, a gift to this world that he happened to rescue from the darkest depths of emotionlessness. She was truly a sheltered princess, one whose curiosity showed well in the way she learned the steps each of them had to offer. The enthusiastic ones from Impey, the gentle ones from Fran, the practiced ones from Van, the expertise of San’s… and _Lupin’s own_. She even took the time to grant Delly and _Sholmes_ as few moments. All-in-all, Lupin held that day fondly.

Everything about her seemed to exceed every last bit of what he thought was perfect. Her heart, probably the strongest and _largest_ he had ever the pleasure of getting to known, extending herself to others when the time was right but also defending hat she believed in. Humanity fared her well; a fair lady whose kindness knew no bounds. Her sheer excitement for new experiences, what gave her the smile he _loved_ , was a treasure.

His heart belonged to her. Never had _the_ dashing gentlemen thief imagined that he would be on the victim end of a master theft, but there he was. Caught, head-over-heels for her before he could even realize it. What would the others think of the robber becoming the _robbed?_ When had she become so captivating? When had it happened? Was it the first day she burst out into laughter? The first moment he began her training? The first day he had saved her? Again with all the firsts, but it was her initial spell, her overwhelming and genuine charm – perhaps he really had seen her as the apple of his eye, the crown jewel of the whole universe over, from the very beginning.

A series of newness had truly spiraled around this all, with his _eternal_ promise remaining, that _vow_ a true contract that his eyes would only rest on her, that he would do all he could to make her happy, regardless of the path she chose. That was his exchange. Lupin never backed out on his word. Escape was for the dangerous situations that meant unhappiness for _all_. Her _sunbeams_ illuminated the world, and that was motivation enough.

Never had Lupin thought, however, that a problem would arise alongside his mess of a crash for her. There were certain tasks one had to do in order to win over the heart of a lovely _beautiful_ , young lady such as herself. Lupin tried his absolute best, making sure she was safe, comfortable, _happy_. So long as he was allotted time alongside her, he never thought any pain would arise.

_“I… I love you!_ ”

Her wide, teary-eyed beryl hues closed in an embrace around her chosen as she dashed toward them. Lupin’s arms instinctively opened, ready to give her the closest hug he had been holding back.

She ran past him, her eyes focused on another. Her _heart_ was not _his_.

A sigh, hitching back as heartbreak rippled through him. He clutched his chest, feeling it tighten with every thought. All the mattered was that she was happy, free, loved and in love. Every moment made it harder to look at her. He wouldn’t break, no, he would always be _her_ gentleman thief, giving her and the one she chose the pass on pure bliss. Eyes softened as she glanced over to him that day, the words “ _Thank you so much, Lupin!_ ” escaping her lips.

“Anytime, Mademoiselle,” Lupin answered her.

He really had lost to her, but this failure, how could it have been so bad if he was in love!

Totally enamored with someone who couldn’t return those feelings.

He looked over to his double. _Damn_ , even his double was in better shape than he was, for the time being (given that they understood each other the _most)_ , thinking over plans and talking through other issues yet solved. Could this _have_ been planned for? That her laughter, her _love_ , could slip through his fingers? Lupin could plan for many outcomes, but feelings were fickle… perhaps, he never could have handled the thought of losing her.

_"Come on, now, Lupin_.”

Lupin’s gaze fell back onto the space over the other. He really just needed everything to settle in, let himself sort things out. _Heartbreak_ , the sheer knowledge of a love _unrequited_ , could it really keep the ever-confident thief down?

" _You’ve lived through worse than this_.”

Close calls, tight corners that they could escape, of course the other Lupin would know the specifics. Confide in oneself, and it would all make sense. The _mirror_ Lupin knew that much.

_"Just… Just live through this too_.”

Lupin would try. He forced himself to sit up and stare _himself_ right in the eyes. If anyone could cheer him up now, it would be the figure of his own, dashing self, wouldn’t it? He still had this idea, the notion that as long as he still knew himself, this heartbreak couldn’t get him.

But the mirror felt so far away, the reflection distant.

Noise, clatter outside. Lupin carefully rose from his resting spot and tracked the source of the liveliness silently. And there she was, trying to figure out more complicated steps with the suitor she chose.

_“_ Take care, Cardia…” Lupin’s whisper sounded forced, the words probably the hardest to say. He returned to his room and looked at the mirror once more, putting on a grin. “Of… Of course, I’ve lived through worse. I’m the dashing, handsome and perfect, Arsène Lupin!” Every word added was a trial to convince himself. It would be difficult, maybe even impossible, to truly live past the _woman_ who was the source of all the _only_ and _first times_ Lupin had ever felt, but that smile on her face, the gem that could make anyone’s soul flutter was a reward for the happiness she had.

He had helped her attain happiness, he had assisted her in _living_. She was overjoyed, the smile to never truly take flight from her again. Lupin’s work was finished, and he had nothing more to offer her than the promise of being there for her when she and the one she loved, _his friends_ needed him.

“A loss? Why would this be one? Her smile… it really is the treasure we all have sought after, is it not?”

He could hardly convince himself. And in the end, he left a note and took to the night.

                    _Mademoiselle,_

_                                   Live the life you deserve. The one you have dreamed of. Love has stolen you away, and I must say I will always be proud of you, and the treasure the world has made you. My promise extends to being there when you need it, but for now my time here is unneeded. To you, princess of our manor, take care. _

_                     Yours truly, _

_                                    Arsène Lupin, gentleman thief extraordinaire _

His strengths lay in the fact that his goal was set and met – allow her to keep her smile.

At the expense of his happiness, of bringing his being to the _only_ time he had ever experienced such a feeling as this.“Cardia… stay safe… and yourself.”

His mirror… maybe his mirror was right. He had been through worse, certainly, but the weight this carried immensely outdid anything. **“** No matter what, take good care of her.” What to place her as? A fleeting dream, a treasure unobtainable, the purest gift to this world.

The challenges of living through this would be unparalleled, his match… finally met? He let out a deep sigh, confided in his mirror once more, and left. His mind on a day of a masquerade ball, a different time where the mysterious masked  _gentleman_ would steal away the young _lady’s_ heart and adoration, forever and ever. A wish, the fullest of all desires the man that put others first could hold, but _never_ the reality.


	11. You Must Have Hit...

Okay, tripping, _backwards_ no less, and landing with the impact force of _something_ actually painful was not entertaining, exciting, or something that was ever going to be on his to-do list again. He had to thank his own good karma that he wasn’t seriously injured, but it was still quite the headache, and complete shock.

He rubbed his head, trying to save himself all the embarrassment the world could throw at a man like him In that moment.

"You must have hit the back of your head really hard.”

**“** Well, Saint, that’s…” No use hiding what was actually seen – did anyone else? Let the world forbid Cardia saw him! Really, how would it look for the girl he rescued to see her _hero_ commit such a _tragic_ accident. The fallen, the – oh! But he still appeared fine, did he not? No snares in his clothing… He could see the mildly amused look on Saint’s face, his mood difficult to read otherwise.

**“** No fooling you,” Lupin finally said, realizing the Count wasn’t budging on his look. “I did, but I’m just fine now!” Brimming with confidence could fool a fool, but staggered steps said otherwise. He probably, _definitely_ needed to lay down, but Lupin simply refused to show weakness like that. There were tasks to complete and he could still _think_. What was the issue?

Though, he probably had to thank Saint for catching his shoulder before he ran into a wall instead of walking out the door of the room – a treasured and expensive vase resting on a small table there. Saint was looking out for him, and of course sparing him the feeling of dread and wrath that would have come once he recovered.

In fact, a few movements later and Saint had Lupin resting on the sofa nearby, a blanket over him and a simple, _“The gentleman thief cannot complete what he wishes when he’s ill, can he? Do you wish to concern, Cardia-san_?” With her name, and Saint’s calm words, Lupin gave in. He knew that if could trust anyone’s judgement, it was Saint’s. It was in regards to the Count that they had consistent lodging and the ability to keep working. So, Lupin would comply with Saint’s request.

“Though, Saint, don’t tell Cardia. I don’t want her to worry.”

Lupin said this, but even Saint couldn’t stop the young woman of the house from coming in, worry flushing her.

“Now, now, Cardia-san. Let our Arsène Lupin rest, and you can talk to him about his carelessness later,” Saint released a chuckle and made sure that, within moments, Lupin could obtain the rest he needed, without bothering from anyone else in the mansion.


	12. Be Careful

Lupin balanced himself out on the chair below him. There was much to be done, a celebration of the grandest scale to be had. “Ah, Saint! Fran said Impey’s actually coming as well. The whole gang will be back.” Well, back in addition to inviting Sholmes, which was upon Cardia’s insistence – an idea Lupin just couldn’t refuse. It was surely going to be a party!

Small barks distracted him, Lupin chuckled, looking down, “Sisi, I’m not Cardia, or the little one for that matter.” The small dog, though much older, still had the energy of the year they found him. “Really, go play with them, Sisi! I’m busy. I know, I know, I’m pretty great, but the others are much better right now!”

What resulted from Sisi’s eagerness was a near, complete tackle down from the chair and a light chuckle from Saint, which was gratefully coupled with balance support. At least Saint had his back, in this moment. Though, it was no surprise that when Saint spoke, his words were that of a warning, sound advice.

"Be careful.”

Lupin wasn’t just going to give in to _nothing_! “I will, Saint; something this small can’t bring someone like me down.” He smirked, making sure to tack in what was in his hands to the best of his ability. “Could you hand me that?” He asked, extending his arm down after nodding to what he needed. “Cardia’s glad you’re here, Saint. The family really adores you, and I did promise I’d bring you out.”

Saint smiled, handing Lupin what he requested. Maybe it was odd to be back in this old mansion of his, but he wouldn’t miss a generous invitation from an old friend of his. He was in need of some of the familiar and distant liveliness again. If anyone would be the one to stage an idea such as this, a celebration for the little girl Saint was more than happy to call his goddaughter, it would be Lupin. Streamers lined the walls a large banner tacked on. Saint had made sure to follow Lupin’s grandiose plan to the letter. He trusted Lupin, and figured it would be entertaining to see through the gentleman thief’s latest scheme. It had been all too long since he had the pleasure of it.

Just then, small footsteps could be heard, along with laughter, protests, and cheers.

“Papa, papa! Mama and me brought home Big Brother and Uncle Van! Mama says Uncle Impey will be here later!” A small girl called.

Lupin laughed, glancing to Saint as he hammered in the last decoration. “My daughter and my princess return,” he said, carefully stepping down from the chair. “And listen, Saint’s here too! You need to wait for Impey to get here for cake though.”

“Okay! Big brother, big brother, look at how cool Papa made everything!”

The young vampire groaned, Delly couldn’t help but at least pay attention to what the little girl pointed at.

“I see it, I see it, though what else would you except?”

“Isn’t Papa the coolest?”

Delly’s eyes jolted from Lupin, to the girl, to Van, and then he sighed, _“He’s not the worst person I’ve met. Though I still don’t understand why he denies his friend-_ ”

“And that’s enough from you, _Delly_ ,” Lupin was quick to interrupt Delly, sweeping whatever comment he tried to finish under the hypothetical rug of topics to never be touched. He scooped up his daughter and planted a small kiss on Cardia, smiling all the more, “You’re right though. Your dad _is_ the best!”

The little girl’s giggles were livening to the manor. Lupin knew he still had time until Fran arrived with Impey. Really, he had Saint’s help with setting up the button-released streamers (a mechanism Impey had left that somehow _functioned_ without any flaws). Still, there was the icing on the cake that remained.

“Uncle San? Uncle San, come here, come here!” The little girl called sticking out her arms. Lupin patted her on the head with his free arm and set her down, allowing her to run over to Saint. “Ah! Papa kept his promise! Mama’s really happy too!” Cardia nodded, friendly hugs were exchanged before Cardia mentioned that she really should be getting dishes in order, and politely requested Delly to help. Not wanting to stand around by the door for when Impey arrived, Van joined them, leaving Saint, Lupin, and his daughter to remain in the foyer.

“Now listen, this is pretty, right? Well, that’s not all this can do, but you have to wait.”

“How did you do it, Papa?”

“That’s a secret.”

The little girl pouted before Lupin took toward grabbed one more thing, upon noticing it sat unhung on the table. He moved the chair and stepped back on it.

"Be careful, Lupin.”

Saint said, watching the infamous man do his work. Sisi came by again, finally satisfied with his play with Delly, and ran past the chair, slightly bumping into it with his metal leg, and causing it to wobble. Tip backwards and over it went, Lupin falling to the floor in a huff, barely avoiding breaking something. The little girl had ran behind Saint to get out of the way, clinging to his legs as she peered out curiously.

“Papa, are you okay?” She asked.

Lupin answered with **“** Never better.” as Saint approached.

“You’d do well to heed my advice sometimes, Lupin. That was quite the fall there.” All-in-all, Saint was more amused than anything, and he held out his hand to help Lupin up.

Lupin accepted it, gladly. “Right, right, but I can still recover from slips like that, Saint. You know I can.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Firm grip and up he was. Lupin’s expression was that of what Saint could remember, though perhaps love and time had matured it more so. One matter was certain, Lupin hadn’t really changed.

_Knock_! Knuckles gently hit the other side of the door, but in a pattern Lupin didn’t place as Fran’s or Impey’s. No, that had to have been…

“Arsène, get the door, please!”

Lupin groaned, but complied, shaking off his fall as he walked over to the door.

Saint was even more certain of it then. Lupin hadn’t changed. The mansion hadn’t either. It was difficult to believe that a simple care, that a small passage of time, could change so much or so little. Saint knew it, really. He had lived much more alongside his days of assisting Lupin and Cardia than his long-lived life had ever left him feeling. Knowing them, was worthwhile.

“Uncle San! I wanna show you the garden Mama and I take care off!” The little girl tugged on Saint’s arm. He looked at her gently, a content glow about his air.

“Yes, yes, show me the way.” Later, he’d indulge the little girl by joining her in a tea party, catching up with her, Cardia, Van, and Sholmes. Perhaps, he’d sit her on his lap, let her pour his tea. Lupin might even be grumbling a bit about Sholmes in the background. But Saint… he was glad he could be here to join them. Maybe, he had now wanted nothing more than to occasionally rejoin the thief and warn him to be careful.


	13. Shut Up and Don't Sleep

Cooperating with Van isn’t difficult for Lupin. Regardless of how they met, at opposing ends of a fight over the condition and placement of Cardia, they are now a team. It’s, perhaps to say, a like it or not matter, something Lupin couldn’t help but rest his arm against Van and laugh over. Not that it ever blew over well. Van _is_ Van, and he always will be. Lupin found he could always leave a good portion of the defenses in Van’s care, no matter how tight things might get, because Van is capable, trustworthy, and would probably take charge of them anyway.

“No weapons training, Van? Good move, but she’s tough no matter what.”

“Amateurs don’t need the false confidence.”

“Ah? So your use is to give you false confidence too? Can’t say that’s too shocking.”

“No. But I cannot say that you joking around is all too shocking either, Lupin.”

Back to back, Van and Lupin both can exchange their own sort of banter while they prepare to get _out_ of a situation. Conversations of their sort of nature may even have appeared to be jabs of a hardy variety, but the two of them are  _friends_ – as much as Van denied or fought against admitting.

“The best combat is… enough for an opening in this situation, Van.”

“Is that not every situation for you?”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a fighter. I like to try to avoid that much, all though…” Lupin could tell that this time, being surrounded was much more in their midst than before. Step, Lupin moves quickly, and says, “You can buy me a moment, can’t you?”

“I suppose. I won’t be able to stall them long.”

Lupin nods, using the distraction brought from Van’s fire to tap his cane to the floor and pointing it toward his side of the attacking wave. Anesthetic pours out, and Lupin is back to a safe trick he knows most: grand escape. They had to meet up with the others. That _was_ the plan, at least. Van moves, shooting back his end of foes but one is able to dart past him, far faster than the rest.

Slight surprise on display, Van is fast to turn and warn Lupin, who catches the sound of the approaching footsteps late in chaos that surrounds them, falling bodies sound asleep tumble as Lupin whirls around, only to feel a jolt of pain. He coughs, fingers curling around where the pain radiates from as Van shoots the culprit, quickly knocking back and down every last one of the enemies before moving to support Lupin before he can collapse entirely. Anything too impact might cause him to lose the ability to flee the clutches of untimeliness. Van wants to risk nothing.

Pressure on the wound is immediately set. Had it been absent, he probably _would_ have lost himself already, passed out, locked away into eternal slumber. The pain is excruciating, but Lupin needs to fully explain to Van new changes in the plan. There’s no way…

Helping him sit up against one of the walls, Van overlooks Lupin’s condition. Eyes glossing, ridged breathing, groaning, gasps, deep red staining clothing, hands, pooling as a thin crimson puddle. Nothing is working and _boy_ is it painful, for the both of them.

“Van, listen… you need to proceed as expected. Actually, I hate to admit it, but I prepared for the worst when we became surrounded as we were. So, cooperate just a bit more with me here.”

No. _Damn_ this overconfident thief. Where is his overbearing laughter? Where is the trickery? Is this the trick? Is he going to suddenly appear, another one of his ‘ _I’ll always have the upper hand on you, Van_ ’ moves? Van hopes so, because he can’t, he really _can’t_ lose someone he finally could, maybe, call a teammate, someone who is the mastermind of a majority of their information gathering and plans, someone who is a mood-maker, organizer, _no_.

"Shut up.”

The words leave his mouth quickly as he thinks through a way to fix this. There had been too much loss in his life. One slip up, as it happen, one miss in the face of occupation and total sureness of knocking back.

“If one of us – namely I – were to fall, then the other backway, detailed in my plans, would be safer. It’ll throw the enemy off and won’t deter the rendezvous. Only the quick thinking of someone like me would allow the birth of this adjustment, right? This plan can’t fail. I trust the team with that. I trust _you_ with that.” Lupin’s words become pained rambles as he tried to get the last word.

"Shut up.”

“You know, you were a surprisingly good teammate. Thought your stubbornness would have kept you, but you’re stuck with us, ah well _them_ would be better put.”

“Lupin, shut up. Just concentrate on staying awake. **Don’t** sleep.”

But if Lupin did cease his words, then he can’t say farewell to everyone. He’s thinking about a showy speech. Saint and probably Fran or Impey could cover Cardia’s eyes and ears before he gasped for his final breath. She is the only one he really didn’t want to be seen by in this condition. Really, how terrible it would be! _Her_ gentleman thief, fallen, leaving… he didn’t like the idea of leaving anyone behind, of burdening them, but he supposes he’s content with giving Van the makeshift, adjusted plan, because at least he _did_ something. He’s **the** gentleman thief, a great man, of course, who knew that, like it or not, for better or worse, they were all in this together. _Were_.

Van knows that his initial descriptions and thoughts toward Lupin weren’t… _the_ kindest. _A common cutpurse, bothersome_ , not to mention nosy and obnoxious, but the thief did have skill that exceeded over common placement. That just one mere reason of many that he just couldn’t die. Not here. Not _his friend_. Not when the group still needed him. Not when he is still so _young_.

But Lupin’s consciousness is slipping. He’s babbling, words coming out in rambling strings. Van can’t pick up most of it, but occasionally clear words.

“Don’t let… Cardia _see_ …”

A full sentence, in a sense. But what can Cardia see that’s so drastic if Lupin just gets up and to Fran? Van can dress the wound to a manageable level with the small bit of supplies the two share, and everything would be fine. Cardia would simply know he’s hurt, but he’ll live. Isn’t that all there is to it?

Lupin is finally able to speak a little clearer, but Van can tell everything is getting foggier for him. It’s obvious, no matter how he might try to disguise it.

“Don’t sleep, Lupin. Just get ready for me to fix this without you complaining.”

“My chances of failing _were_ zero, but even I’m not _stupid_ enough-”

“Apparently, you **are** stupid enough to keep talking.” Van sighs. Lupin lets out a like chuckle but it’s as weak as one would believe he can manage.

“-to try to make it to the others. Leave me to rest, Van. I… I’ll catch up when I’m feeling up to it…” He beams, but it’s forced, shaking, twitching, cringing in agony, Lupin is suffering, slowly fading, and it’s even harder because Van can’t do anything. For once – if Van could even truly call it a first time – Van feels helpless. Someone _close_ to him is out of reach, but in front of him, his voice softening, the tension in his limbs escaping, slumping, ending, Van leaves one hand on the wound and holds Lupin’s shoulder with the other. He pushes, calling Lupin’s name, annoyed, worried, _hoping_ that this was all fake, false, a nightmare that shock and _fear_ would free him from.

But he is trapped, reality bites, stings, and Van can only do one thing for Lupin, since carrying him is not an option. Fixing his own attire and equipment set up, Van removes his coat and places it over Lupin to grant him the respect he’s  _earned_.  He stands, wordlessly, and turns away, stepping off with his shotguns in hand. After a few steps, he hazards a glance back at Lupin. As he _wanted_ to believe, his figure smiling at him, laughing, accomplishing – an _illusion_. How would he explain things? How would the others react? Thoughts cycle, Van hates the position he’s in. He hadn’t signed up for this when he decided to align his plans with the others’, with Lupin’s. But now…

Van _could_ trust Lupin with not making mistakes, _sometimes_ , but his words were his _mistake_ this time.

“The others will know your plan, Lupin. Lying **is** something you would do in your last moments for comforting another.”

He’d get whoever did this, _their_  enemy really had gone too far. Setting the stakes and goals higher isn’t difficult when the team’s health, hopes, and progress is jeopardized. One step closer, five steps back. Van is not a fool. 

“So at least sleep well for once, Lupin.”  


	14. You can hear me, right?

Perhaps it’s typical, one hundred percent normal, that Lupin often dances with dangers. Close calls, jumps, miniature explosions that release nothing but gas, Lupin plays with the risks in order to make the most spectacular and efficient escape. Always has Lupin managed to get out of places, even at the worst of scenarios. Arms, cares, adoration, Lupin smiles with an endless burst of confidence and optimism.

“Saint, I’ll be out late tonight. Tell everyone good night for me.” Lupin says. He trusts Saint so much, possibly more than anyone else, because he has yet to find a reason to distrust him. Friendship, Lupin finds Saint to be an important friend, and he’s grateful for everything, for every last extension of help.

“I will, Lupin. Though, I suggest you watch out for yourself. I do not doubt your confidence is warranted, but there is not a reason to worry our Cardia-san, is there?”

“Stress not, friend! You know who I am, and there’s nothing I can’t do. Cardia won’t have to worry a single thought. None of you will.”

Saint knows Lupin is not foolish. Meticulous and observant, Lupin is likely one of the most oddly trustworthy people, one that Saint is glad to call a friend, one that Saint hates hiding things from. Yet, that matter isn’t important for the time being. Saint worries that Lupin might be overlooking something. Mayhaps the thief is forgetting a very important concept, one Saint has thought a plague on the latest creations of bangs and booms. Repeated close exposure without proper protection… Vulnerability from repeated minor head injuries… Saint hopes Lupin is fine. He has to be.

Lupin flees again into the night, using a flash bomb – one Impey worked on with help from Fran – for his movement. The noises, constant, filled his ears and stung. One more time, one more loud noise, trauma, pain, Lupin got out of there with unmatched knowledge and speed, slipping back into Saint’s mansion with a staggered step.

A greeting, the Count’s smile is gentle, mysterious, but Lupin sees the welcoming in it. Lupin’s returns the expression, giving Saint a thumbs up, before he holds his head. Ache, riveting.

“Lupin, welcome home.” Saint speaks calmly, but Lupin seems to have, out of his usual character, missed the words in his condition. So, Saint approaches, placing a hand of comfort on Lupin’s shoulder. He receives a firm grip on his own shoulder in response.

**“** I’m home from a job well done, Saint. **”** Lupin says, but he immediately looks puzzled, baffled, a few more rambles, looking about, something worries Lupin. Vibrations, sounds not hit, not understood, _not_ …

The gentleman thief stares right at Saint, eye contact unending, answers being sought after. If anyone could have them, could bring them to Lupin’s attention, it was Saint.

However, Saint’s concerns are not yet quelled. Lupin’s… “response” to his _Welcome home_ was not satisfactory, nor was it typical. It was a lot more usual to hear Lupin say something like **_‘_** _Naturally, you couldn’t sleep, awaiting my return_.’ to which laughter and more jests would be had. But Lupin makes no effort to display characteristics of himself and routine. His imbalance, his fear, his _something went wrong, but not in the escape itself_ behavior.

“Lupin, you can hear me, right?”

Lupin’s eyes widen, his grasp on Saint’s shoulder strengthens. Lupin is an expert with reading lips, with mimicry and tricks being a part of his tactics, but Saint’s voice fails to reach his ears. He blames it on the blast from earlier. This had occurred before, but never had the loss, the lack, the absence of verbal inflection stuck around so long before.

Weakness was not in Lupin’s array of ideas to show, unless it was just too difficult to seal them away. His emotions awry, Saint grasped at the situation, at the pain, at _everything_. It seems as though Lupin needs Saint to stay afoot in his current state of shock. He appears to be out of, far from ready. His eyes seem out of focus, his breathing, sweating, apprehension showing. Only for him, Saint concludes, only for now.

"Please take a seat, Lupin.” Saint mouths. Lupin nods, using Saint as support as he nearly trips over his own feet, collapsing on the seat nearby.

“Saint, I-” Lupin can hardly allow himself to talk. It feels strange. Nothing greets his ears. It’s too long, too strong. Cardia’s laugh. Saint’s comforting tone. Teasing, hell, even Impey’s whine. Lupin wants it all to rush back to him. _Wake up, this is probably a nightmare._

He pinches himself, smacks himself, and he can feel all of it.

_No…_

Psychological stress takes its toll. He can’t blame Impey’s failures. He wouldn’t ever blame Fran. His own mistake. His own fault. He should have paid attention to himself. The lengthening time on hearing loss before it return – where did it go? His fists ball up and Saint, in the best way he feels Lupin would understand, places a hand over one of Lupin’s fist to draw his attention onto him.

"Rest.”

Sleep? Now? Would it return what had been lost? A treasure, no, many of the treasures of life had just slipped him. Sight, still with him, but the appreciation of everything…

Lupin closes his eyes, unable to process it. He feels pounds against the ground before him, uncoupled by the usual. How could he do his job without the ability to pay attention to the whole of his surroundings? Work alone, he wouldn’t want to risk anyone being his ears.

Suddenly, a weight captures him and he can’t help but look.

“Lupin _?”_ He sees _her_ lips move about his name. He glances to Saint. Help is promised, but Lupin seems nearly on the verge of tears. Cardia isn’t used to it; she hasn’t been totally briefed. Lupin doesn’t want her to be. Instead, he says nothing, wrapping his arms around her, making sure her hair is between them.

“Sorry.” He says. He needs this. Cardia is confused by the suddenness, about his intentions, his state, all of it. What was this?

_“_ Lupin, are you..?” she asks. Lupin doesn’t respond.

Saint carefully sits on a separate chair close by. This stirring in the middle of the night, he can’t help but place the dangerous situations at fault, the need for the even closer escapes. This situation is understandable, inclusive of all of Lupin’s reactions. Lupin’s dance with threats has caused him to misstep, to bring a troublesome time among them both. Perhaps he’d reprimand Lupin’s forwardness later, as a formality, but he allows it to stay. Cardia isn’t fighting him. The two people Saint truly does _trust_ and believe in genuinely, the ones he feels are completely devout to his ideas, the ones who he knows trust him, the ones he hates lying to, are there before him, drama, discomfort, everything, afflicting them. Saint refuses to leave them, especially now. He looks at Lupin, whose stare as reached him.

“I’ll make some tea.” Saint says.

Adjustments needed to be made. Vertigo, severe headaches, Fran would be informed of the situation. There had to be a solution for _permanence_ like this. Surely, something would arrive. Lupin’s will, it couldn’t die. Saint would hate that. Cardia wouldn’t be the same either. Protect the good times, repair, Saint wants everything to last.

So he’d personally take charge, personally work to recover. Lupin’s optimism is a mood maker, his self-assurance familiar and tried, but Saint wouldn’t have it any other way. That was friendship, faith, trust.

Finally, Lupin mouths, **“** Thank you, Saint.” Before his eyes flutter shut and he falls asleep.


	15. You're Going to be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To myself: True suffering strengthens the heart

_Health._ Lupin has always been warned by Fran to watch out for himself, and for his context of good fortune. Despite overworking, despite late nights, Lupin always finds himself fine. Nothing more than “the sniffles” every once in a while, but even that brings concerns, harbors fear. Fair warnings, the expected conversation. 

“Rest, Lupin.”

It never is limited to Fran there. Blankets from Saint, some sort of comments from Impey, and rough but true short sentences from Van. Impey and Van he could deny, but he’s never able to say no to Saint, or to Cardia, who holds out the blankets Saint gathers up without fail. 

It would go with, mention or not, the fact that in the end Lupin is Lupin, and can’t truly relax until everything has been resolved. 

All the concern is warranted, understood. Lupin is not a man who lacks ears. Saint couldn’t help but watch Lupin closely. He had seen people in conditions akin to him, as is though his expression seems calm, he is sure Lupin can read the rest of his meaning. It shouldn’t be difficult.

Lupin continues to push himself, to learn, to chase.

Heat flies from him and he shivers. As if on cue, Saint is back with a cover.

“Lupin.” The look Saint wears tells Lupin that he isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Not at Absolute Zero, not like days before. It is almost strange, he has been seeing those smiles less and less, as his eyes grow darker, his head throbs more, his breathing shallows. Tighter forces, louder steps, less outings – or, were they more frequent?

More often does Lupin find himself in narrower escapes. Everything takes an increasing amount of effort, of life, from him. But he stills allows himself to put on a smile, let out a powerful and confident laugh. Cardia isn’t blind, nor is Saint, nor are the others. None of them can ignore the signs. Tension fills the air and all they want is Lupin to recover, to have vibrancy again, to be back to his usual antics.

“This? A small cold! A little less sleep! Some cough? _Pah!_ Nothing like that can _ever_ be the demise of Arsène Lupin.”

Unfortunately, life is not always _fair_ , quite the fare, toll, the cough began suddenly. Master of disguise, of escape, of everything, blood stains his hands, his sleeves, he explains nothing. Why worry the others?

Fever, profuse sweating, Lupin keeps insisting, passing, _lying_ about the good measure of his health. He avoids Fran until the alchemist pulls him aside in hopes that at least some medicine and improvements will be attempted. The others are dodged, his absence a large gap. His punches to Impey become weaker, less teasing – he’s fading, disappearing, stumbling.

Saint knows the signs. Soon – could he walk? Gauntness, bleakness, Lupin always appears to be able to laugh, trying his normal tactics of leaning against Delly, pretending. Even the young vampire could convince himself to fight back, Lupin’s features a lot less of what he recalls to be characteristic of him.

Lupin’s face reddens, his arm swiftly (as fast as his state would let him) covers his mouth as he bursts out into a coughing fit, droplets fall to the floor, permanently marking it. Saint observes it, silent as Lupin excuses himself and flees the scene “of the crime.”

His lungs rattle as he fumbles his door open and collapses on to his bed. Irritation, shortness of breath, he is the _best_. He _has_ to keep fighting. His will doesn’t return as Saint knocks and enters. Lupin’s lies aren’t convincing. Saint brings tea, blankets, warmth.

“Can you eat?”

What is hunger? Appetite, minuscule, nothing.

Lupin’s diminishing, fleeing, _no._ Illness, something that has haunted him in the past. Sad eyes. Perhaps the breaking has been reached.

"You’re going to be okay.” Saint tells him. Lupin can hardly speak. He nods, gripping his sheets, groaning, coughing. Fatigue invites him to sleep, but even in this possible respite from his suffering, night terrors surround him. Perspiration is apparent as Saint does all he can to calm Lupin, to quell, to protect.

Nothing is working.

A battle Lupin is losing, a victory that slips his grasp. No more heists, no more standing, chuckling, _being Lupin._ His chest rises quickly as the typically optimist face twists, contorts in pain. Fran allows the two to be alone; the others await results in the hallway as they hear near screaming, yelping. Their faces pale. All of them are there, including the detective that Lupin considers his enemy. No one wants to see, to hear, to know Lupin’s force is leaving them, especially not like this. Cardia places her hands against the door.

Saint wants to save him, but he can’t deny that Lupin is experiencing immense pain, something a mortal should never have to suffer. If he could, Saint would take the blows for Lupin. Something so small wouldn’t kill him, and the liberation would be a relief. Fingers curl around Saint’s arm, and all Saint can manage to do is speak another lie.

"You’re going to be okay.” He repeats. Lupin can’t believe it. Saint knows it not going to happen. And it hurts them the most. What was okay? Vomiting, churning, bloodshot eyes on both accounts, Saint can’t sleep. Lupin’s struggles continue.

Not even the mention of Sholmes being there enacts a response. Lupin’s too far away, but Saint’s dedication is never ending. He refuses to leave the bedside, allowing Lupin to use all the strength he wants to distract himself from his own pain through a hand squeeze. Tight, but every day it loses power.

Days pass and Lupin makes no progress. He’s deteriorating. Okay is as distant as Lupin is.

Stay strong, stay strong, Saint _prays_. Deaf ears, _why_. "Save him, please. Spare the one who has much to do.” Saint can’t imagine the look on Cardia’s face, on the others’ faces. He can hear her choking sobs as Lupin’s pained gasps release again and again. His breathing has long turned to wheezing, a shell of the man that lingers in Saint’s memory. When was the last time Saint was so close to someone that he could be in the vicinity of them slowly _dying?_ His friend, the one he wants to help, probably the most compared to Cardia.

“Lupin, it’s time to get some rest.”

Lupin weakly says, “Ah, is… it?” And he shuts his eyes. Aching still courses through his body and Saint thinks back to the boy, to the Plague, to every mistake he has made. If Lupin hadn’t worked so hard… If he had instilled rules to assure some sort of sleep schedule for health benefits… If Saint had _just done more_ , then maybe Lupin would have been able to fight this off.

His breathing increased, Saint could feel the irregularity of Lupin’s heartbeat through the grip on his hand, before it begin to slowly soften. Attempted deep intakes before a force out muttered of “Take care of..!”

Saint closes his eyes, adjusting the blanket on Lupin much more.

"You’re going to be okay…” Saint says, shaking his head as he leaves the room. When the door opens, Cardia tries to rush past him, but Saint holds her instead. He doesn’t want her to see him. He can’t allow it. Lupin would have wanted it that way.

“Fran.” Saint says. Fran looks down and walks into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Saint?”

Saint tries to smile down at her, but on the inside he’s running through everything he could have changed. Tears don’t seem to be coming, but surely and certainly Saint is not anything about “all right.” His friend, ally, the _gentleman thief_ whose will exceeded perhaps them all… Saint has to say nothing, to not break down, to bring comfort to her and the others. He’s a constant, a support. They need this. 

“Cardia-san. You’re going to be okay. Lupin requested that I remind you of that.”


	16. Stay with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am relentless on my own heart.

She chases after him. Volatile pulses of the increasingly unbearable shock waves cause her to stumble, her feet slip, but Lupin catches her in one fell swoop, not missing a beat. He beams and for a brief moment of their flight she is comforted. A moment in the storm can be dangerous, but she trusts him. Every step of the way makes the situation more precarious, winds picking up, chills attempting to capture anyone in an icy embrace. All she needs is his warmth, his smile, his promise. He feels the same; as long as she can smile, as long as she can stay safe, Lupin feels content. Direction was one thing, but she is beside him for the time being.

“Don’t let go,” He whispers. Her hold around his hand tightens as he pulls her closer still, lifting, jumping, a grand exit befitting of the gentleman thief extraordinaire. She doesn’t dare release. His hand, gentle, the pull, caring. Cardia feels her apprehension melt away, just for the time being. She’s confident they can get through this, even as they find themselves on the thin railings, scaling, one drop and it’s all over. Lupin observes each second closely, the shock waves, the frequency, he doesn’t want her getting hurt. Their pursuers are on their tails. Misstep, hesitate, and everything is no more.

Neither would give in. This is for the happy times, the enthusiasm of dancing, talking, living in the daylight and moonshine together. This is for the hopes and dreams, love, affection, protection, calmness and not calamity. Their feet carry them, light, prepared, embracing, the end of the rainbow has to be there for them. Gun shots, wind, storms, the world is combating them.

“Please, Cardia!” Lupin shouts. Cardia grips tighter.

“I will, Lupin!” She yells back. Slip, balance, a cycle.

Survive for the happiness, for the days in the future where they can fall asleep against one another, where they can hide away together, laugh, hug. Books could surround them. Lupin wants to live a life where he can read stories with her, create stories with her, be with her. They are so close. So close to eradicating the poison that plagues her, the problems that revolve around her; so close to liberating her.

A few mores steps!

Swirling, thoughts of dreams land before them. Perhaps they still would live in Saint’s mansion. Sisi would be there, probably to crash cute moments, but Cardia’s laughter would make it all the sweeter.

“Lu- Arsène!” She might call, adjustments, but bliss nonetheless. He’d scoop her up, visitors or not, touch foreheads, noses, hearts. Some nights, Lupin might come home later and find her asleep on the couch, so he would pick her up and carry her to bed. And other nights, they might fall asleep holding hands.

Cardia sees the same ideas. Anything is possible with Lupin, and that’s what she loves.

“Hold on tight!” Lupin says, dragging them both back to reality.

Lupin grips the edge tightly. Daydreams, flight, everything flashes, everything frightens.

She is lower than he, hanging, living, by Lupin’s hand alone. “I won’t let you fall.” Lupin tells her. He gathers up his strength - she needs to get to safety, away from here, closer to the others. She deserves a full life. And Lupin swears again and again that he would die to give it to her.

“Lupin, I know!” Cardia confirms to him their bond, trust, truth. That’s all the will he needs. His ears fill with her voice, her laugh, _her_ and he uses what he has gained to pull her up, nearly tossing her. It drains his energy, but she is now on solid ground. An escape like this, in better conditions, in less fatigue, would have been viable.

His fingers nearly release. Cardia scrambles to grab him, to make sure he doesn’t fall. She can hardly keep him up. She’s afraid. The elements, the winds, don’t relent.

“Cardia!”

“Lupin, please! Stay with me!”

The others, oh, they had to be there; the pursuers are thrown off by them. She needs to save him, to hold on. Lupin tries, tries so much, to gain the bearings and the momentum to get _up_. But, he could see her face, the gritted teeth, the risk. He couldn’t let her die. She just couldn’t. Panic, Lupin looks at her apologetically.

“C-Come on! Just a little longer!”

“Haha, I’ve been falling a lot more lately. I’m sorry.” He tries to lighten the scenario. It fails him. He knows, he believes, he is absolutely certain that she will not let go, that if he doesn’t do something, she will go over with him. He has to take action,as usual, to keep her from losing to the darkness that was gaining on him. She’s stubborn, perhaps hysterically so in this moment. So Lupin continues to speak, to occupy her ears and eyes while he prepares. “When this is one, when the others… when _you_ meet them at the spot… Don’t look at me like that. One more smile, please. I love you, mademoiselle.”

“A little longer, Lupin. That’s all. We-”

He moves his free hand up with the stamina that remained with him. She can’t linger any longer, her strength beginning to fail her, her body lurching further forward.

“-No! Wait!” He runs his fingers close to her grip, and then gently tickles her. He couldn’t hurt her – he hates to think about it – but he did not want her dead. She loses her grip for a moment, and with it, he fades.

“No, no, no!” She reaches, hoping that she could catch him. Don’t look…

Lupin’s pride is projected all on her. He knows he’s done the most he could. She can move on to do great things. Saint – he’ll support her. The others will as well.

His eyes shut. The ground is close by now. Is she watching? He doesn’t want her to. He has – _had –_ stolen her heart, and she had taken _his_. He had wanted long-lived joy, but even being beside her has done enough. He’d always be hers truly.

_“I love you, Lupin_.” Her voices sticks with him as his alertness drifts.

“Au revoir,” he whispers. His final words.

Among and a step, it is simple to say the others have made progress, but one moment too tardy they freeze. Seconds, moments – they see the end.

Lupin’s hat is recovered. What remains identifiable is hidden, respect, trust, swearing.

“Lupin, my **friend** ,” he says, his eyes trailing up the high platform. He’d make it. Run, dash, to Cardia, to help her, to save her, hat in grip, mind focused.

As for Cardia, her sobs echo through the air, the tremors carrying her screams as footsteps pick up. The pursuers are near. Their friends are coming. Hopes, happiness, Cardia stills tries to cling onto all of this, to picture what can be. If she convinces herself to believe that Lupin could have…

More blasts. More shouting.

“Cardia-san!”

His voice sounds the loudest, their dearest friend, the one that supports them, supports her, listens, hosts. Lupin did say he’d be the first on the scene, but Saint is distant.

Arms wrap around Cardia as she trembles, staring down at the abyss that had stolen the thief.

“Sai-” She begins, but she is interrupted by a voice familiar and cold.

“Did that idiot thief abandon you, dear older sister?”

She gasps, sudden force and pain riding the booms in the air and attacking her. She can’t stay conscious. It’s too much. She falls over, landing against the ground in a soft thud. Beryl hues manage to scan upwards and stare her assailant dead on.

“Finis…” She whispers, before her eyes shut.

She hears chuckling, proud, cruel, and then it’s gone. Replacing, she opens her eyes to see - Lupin? He’s fine! A smile comes to her face as she shakily stands, rushing forward to hug him, greet him, thank him. His arms are open; he’s beaming at her, awaiting her, begging her to be there for him. She obliges and - _what?_ She catches her balance, holding out her arms to assist her, feeling a chill run through her, beginning at her right hand. She glances over, seeing him, foggy. His gloved hand is around hers, as if he’d trying to help her. His eyes, soft, concerned, her heart pounds looking at him.

He’s _not_ there.

In an instant, he vanishes and she collapses. This had to be a nightmare. In sleep and out of, she wants a break, prays for respite, but nothing seems to allow it. She slams her eyes shut, doubling over, placing her forehead to the ground.

_“Cardia. Don’t cry. I promised to fulfill your wishes. A man such as I never breaks a promise as important as that. See - I’ll live on.”_

“Lupin…”  She mutters. Stop lying. Stop lying. She locks her hands together, unmoving otherwise, recalling the feeling of his fingers escaping her grasp. He made her let go. _Why?_

_“So, Cardia. Wake up. You’re in danger. Use what I taught you and get out. But, I can tell you that Saint will be there soon. Nothing gets past him, does it?_ ”

He’s here, his voice is there. She knows she needs to try to be strong, but she doesn’t want to leave the last remnants behind. She wants to be free of this terror; her desires of a happy life, post-poison were sent off into a cloud of smoke, much like Lupin had disappeared from the Royal Guard on the day she was rescued by him.

And–

Her eyes snap open as she sits up. She’s on a bed, in an unfamiliar room. What had…

_Finis_.

Imminent dangers are still on her horizon. She tries to tell herself the others are coming. Lupin had said so himself. Soon.

Soon, this would all be over. The mansion, the struggles, Cardia could still live, should this all leave her. She fishes through her clothing, revealing the small pills Omnibus had given her previously. Freedom, sweet, easy sleep…

Holding onto her final wish, she clutches the small, red dreams in her hands. If she accepts them, she can return to him, join him, and live in the solitude of eternity with the idea of him. As far as she’s concerned, it’s the last hope for the city, for the country. Painless, need she suffer like this? Humanity, _was_ he correct? Her heart aches, tears tug, the world beckons. She takes a deep breath. The temptation of foiling what her _brother_ has caused, what her _father_ has caused, what life has crashed onto her with, calls to her. It would take no time, she remembers Omnibus explaining to her. No time for her mind to be put at ease, no time for her body to go limp, return her to an empty state, cleanse the plains of her suffering. She is pensive. One swallow. That’s all it would take…

The door flies open and Cardia gasps, surprise taking her as she whirls around, thinking that it was Finis there to get her once more.

“Cardia-san, I can’t allow you to do that,” Saint breathes. Crimson stains the light portions of his clothing. It’s much more tattered than Cardia remembers it to be. She thought she was prepared, but in reality, she’s hardly able to keep her hands around the pills. Though she couldn’t feel it before, tears spill from her eyes, her face wet, eyes red.

Saint gives her a soft smile as he carefully takes the pills from her, pocketing them.

“Lupin wouldn’t want you like this. I apologize, but I’m stopping you.”

“How did you..?”

Saint pauses, his look serious as he attempts to answer her, “…Little birds are notoriously terrible at keeping secrets.”

Exhaustion, worry, fear, _security_ envelops her. Her throat is sore; her body can hardly handle the pressure, the stress.

“Go ahead and sleep, Cardia-san. It’s safe. I fulfilled what was necessary, alongside our friends.” He carefully places Lupin’s hat atop her head, something he had gathered for _her_. The sight, the moment, the memory, he is glad Cardia will never have to see the _true_ aftermath. She feels the hat placement, tapping her fingers against it.

Saint knows solutions. At least, he reviews all the possibilities.

“Let’s go home. Shall we?” To cure her poison, to be by her side, to save her from the pain, they had all collaborated, figured out ways, and they will never cease until the job is fully and soundly completed.

_“Saint, if anything happens… Of course this is a last resort because, really, failure isn’t an option… Take care of her._ ”

To defend her honor, her very being, what remained of her thoughts. He’d shield her, help her attain any sort of semblance to her previous, beaming self. He knew it would take time, but he has what feels like eternity. For now, she is… broken, but Saint would not think not even think about leaving her. For the very knowledge of who Lupin _really_ was, for the very thought of who Cardia is, Saint would spend lifetimes recording it.

“Ah. A promise, Lupin, I will not fail to keep.”


	17. I believe in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes: this drabble is based off the "High School" AU we have within our Code:Realize Rp community. It's pretty self-explanatory.

From the first day Lupin had walked through the doors of his classroom, Saint had known he was going to be interesting. In fact, the whole class atmosphere was going to be fun. Lupin is a lively young man, certainly brilliant. Saint knows his own thoughts on him well: the hardworking troublemaker, alongside the sweet and determined young woman that often accompanied him, were honestly among his favorite students. Teachers aren’t _supposed_ to play on the game of favoritism, but really, it has been difficult for Saint not to grow the slightest bit fond of the two students who oft spent lunch in his room.

The young man feels as though his initial impressions were functional, though not _exactly_ the most graceful. Yes, day one, he walked in with a confident look, only to get bumped into by Impey while talking to Cardia (he admits that he was quite distracted and caught up in their conversation), which caused him to knock something of Saint’s to the floor.

"You must be Arsène Lupin. Your reputation certainly exceeds you.”

Lupin falls back into his chair, crossing his arms. Meticulous to his note-taking habits, he is always prepared for anything. Perhaps his excelling marks could be credited to his study habits. At the very least, Lupin gives it his all, and Saint rather appreciates the effort.

Every answer, a confident raise of his hand, without fail Lupin is on the scene to answer the questions, or gives encouragement to Cardia to do the same. Saint revels in their enthusiasm. In all his years of truly, he has never truly experienced a duo of students (though, it is to say that sometimes Impey could be included) that displayed the same vigor toward learning in his class as they.

Lupin always wants to make his education career exciting. Whether this really just means playing games that some would see as under him, or he wants to live his life to the fullest in general, only Lupin could answer. Moreover, Lupin wants to truly support his friends, and those he respects, in his own way. With the order that is kept by the quick answering he provides, Lupin assists in allowing the class to focus. Lupin enjoys the comfort Saint’s class grants him, the homeliness, an immediate go to if the library wasn’t needed. Small stores of snacks, smiles, Lupin can easily lounge back, studying alongside Cardia.

Lean, Lupin usually raises a finger to his lips in situations like these, not wishing to stir Cardia. For all it’s worth – and then some – Lupin is considerate, curiously egocentric and self _less_. Saint trusts him, putting quite the amount of confidence in the good faith of this student of his.

“Could I look at that reading assignment that we’re starting tomorrow? I’d grab it myself, but it’d be rude to disrupt her rest.” Well, not to mention that he is grinning from just her being there.

This young gentleman, easily one of the highest scoring the school, did not come to be without an _endearing_ , mischievous side. Of course, Lupin dares not ever test the wrath of Saint by misbehaving in his classroom. The last time he had… well, at least they can laugh about it now. Lupin’s general respect of Saint is high, and perhaps it could be credited to such a concept, as well as fear, that Saint’s “Zero Temp” smile was so effective – and not so pleasant to be on the receiving end of. Yet, Lupin still incurs the anger of others.

Perhaps it is part of his search for fun; or, perhaps, it is his desire for something of a laugh, but Lupin does it. Saint knows Lupin means the best, no matter his choices. So long as there is understanding on the boundaries, everything will stay functional.

"Lupin, while your tales of games late at night are intriguing, don’t you believe playing with fire a disagreeable action… no matter how expected of you it may be.”

“Ahaha, maybe it is! But, so long as the others have fun, I’m doing my job.”

Now, the next day happens to be a day where lunch had no plans of being spend with Saint, but instead in the company of their peers. Swing music blares from Nemo’s room down the hall (an action both Lupin and Saint knew the administration did not feel like dealing with, nor has any attempts to do so actually worked). It’s possible, Saint thinks, that Lupin and Cardia are enjoying themselves in a friendly dance, much like they had done in his classroom in the past, when he humored them by playing the piano in his room. However, Lupin is, rather, spending his lunch entertaining himself in a _dashing_ escape from the Vice administrator, Leonhardt.

There is no denying Lupin knows what he is doing, nor is there any denying that Lupin wishes the best.

“Arsène Lupin!”

Said named boy stumbles into the classroom, obviously exerting a sizable amount of energy, as Saint breaks his musing. Hiding, Lupin ducks behind Saint’s desk, beside Saint’s chair. This is nothing new (and it never fails to amuse Saint). Lupin is relieved that he can take this up.

“My, Lupin, you must really like the build of my desk. I can’t recall exchanging it recently.”

Lupin laughs, maybe a bit awkwardly, but surely able to answer, “Well, sometimes, it’s good to get a fifth examination. I wouldn’t want it messed up.”

Payment, small tasks Lupin gladly takes upon himself (after small groans of definite protest)  to finish them to the best of his ability (which he believes are exceedingly perfect), despite that the lack of completion of them and the threats of being “turned in” to the office were mere jests on Saint’s part. Not even Sholmes bothered turning Lupin in.

"Do you not recommend to others to ‘act natural’ in situations such as these? There’s no reason you need to stay on the floor, unless you wish to examine it as well?”

“Right, right,” Lupin says, standing and slipping onto a chair that he pulls over mere seconds in advance. “So, I want to check this over to make sure I can help…”

Saint nods. Lupin’s future, aside from his bouts of mischief, mayhem, and mimicking actions, is one of goodness and brightness. He is growing, changing, and Saint convinces himself, with no hesitation, that Lupin is a top student, praying and swearing to keep him on the good path.

“Lupin, I believe in you.” Saint says.

Lupin beams, “As you should, considering I  _am_  the school’s absolutely _dashing_ and perfect honor student!”

The response is expected, Lupin knows who he is, who his friends (and rivals) are, what he wants, and how much he  _adores_ learning from Saint. Sure, at times, he pushes it, but he will always succeed. Failure doesn’t happen, totally. That is how Lupin operates, and Saint doesn’t doubt that no matter the time Lupin was born in, his mark would have been made in ripples. Really, Saint feels blessed to have been graced with such an interesting presence as part of his class roster; fate would have it that they were to meet, and Saint resolves to guide. 

Saint stands and takes to brewing tea to accompany the natural review. Really, Saint does genuinely believe in Lupin. No often does time give a man like that life, history concludes that much. He smiles, and so does Lupin.

The voice of Leonhardt is still ringing over the intercom. Swing music blasts in the background as voices that seem to belong to Nemo and Impey chime. Van Helsing is likely just returning his defenses for his glasses (a gesture marked by a recent prank pulled by the honor student) while little Delly sits in anticipation. Victor was likely cleaning up chemicals but Saint and Lupin were inside, sitting, and practicing under the buzz of the school life, and the proud air of unadulterated pride and assurance.

“Arsène Lupin!”

Saint smiles, promising to cover Lupin again, but more work needed to be done.


	18. "I've Lived in a Hell Far Deeper Than Any You Could Imagine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saint-Germain treasures his relationship with Lupin, far more than that of standard acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the low down. This whole concept that follows is very, very important to me and a few others at least in the Code:Realize Rp community on Tumblr. More at the bottom.

“Saint, if you wouldn’t mind, a moment of observation is at request!”

Calling out to Saint, Lupin beams. Before him are books, sheets of paper, and a few scattered pens. What Lupin wants is assistance in plotting. Finally, he has someone he feels he can trust and naturally banter with, someone who can keep his grand flair and clarify what needs to be done. For now, Saint is the only one that can absolutely do it, other than Lupin himself. And on a foggy, droll day like this, what better a time to take a gander at the hard work that had already been completed?

Keeping secrets is far from easy, but something else stirs Saint’s worries, churning his stomach. Lupin is still far too familiar sometimes, beyond the outlines of his infamy. His focus, deep on the task at hand, disallows doubt. However the cause, though, Saint finds it easy and necessary to be stern with him; he had done so since the very first instance Lupin (and Impey, for that matter) _officially_ entered his life. Yes, he had been ready to hold down rules, policies, perhaps a touch of _friendship_ , no matter the intentions surrounding it. He had been so since minute one.

Saint feels déjà vu often time when he looks at Lupin. The evasion of defeat - at least Saint doesn’t see the failure in Lupin’s expression frequently. He - never failed -  stayed among confidence.

Lupin feels motivated; he has to work, to move progress, to change. The work needs to be completed, and he believes he can count on Saint so it’s high time to employ him in such affairs once more.

“This plan, why, don’t you think it’s as perfect as I, the dashing mastermind?”

No doubts, Lupin prepares himself endlessly, now resting, desiring to help as much as possible. It is possible to say that he lives lively _exhaustion_ , forcing, playing, going. This is natural to Lupin, who chases information, dances with danger, and slips passed it all with ease.

Saint’s full history is unclear to Lupin, just as his past has yet to be fully given out. As far as Lupin knows, Saint has much more to him, a capable man, whimsical and generous. A gentleman _thief_ like him, to be taken in so willingly, so instantly, as if Saint had a reason beyond mere thought, as if he had recognized, comforted, known.

There’s no real explanation, so Lupin chooses to take care, as much as he can, in not _really_ messing up too badly. What he didn’t want was to really inconvenience Saint, so he tries to plan and earn the money they need. The assistance Saint provides is greatly welcomed, so long as Lupin can carry out what he needs to. Sure, Lupin has broken a thing or two. Sure, Lupin may or may not have fallen out of a few _places_ , but he is still as functional and as _perfect_ as ever. This is the highlight of Lupin’s skill, and it’s certain that Saint will grant Lupin what he needs.

It’s supposed that it could be explained like a tree and the branches that follow it. Saint has to be there, for _him_ , for the others, for as long as possible. He knows what’s in store, what has to come, what will happen if things rest as is, but if anyone can change fate… then could it be Lupin? History… was their choices on how they guarded… oh, but he could  _not_ make the same mistake – the… Lu…pin? No, no, separate people.

Tapping the pen in hand to his chin. Lupin wonders on his next choices as Saint’s look turns from a rather quizzical one back to its usual, perpetual smile, one that Lupin admittedly takes comfort in. Somehow, it feels like a smile that is always and meaningfully welcoming, warm, familiar, _present._ As if he was meant to see it. How could such a smile hide anything - well, Lupin puts his best faith in the reliability and genuineness of it.

“If we cover this, then… _ah_! But we really should sort this out, first…” Lupin gives a grin, but it’s accommodating, appreciative. _That’s_ Lupin’s charm, that converts, dazes, and frustrates. Lupin is quite a character, reveling in his own accomplishments, but there really didn’t have to be any other way.

Seeing Lupin’s smile this time, the trust in it, everything, drags him back to the past; zone. Flashes, he sees the face of the boy he had grown attached to, the one he couldn’t kill.

Maybe, maybe Lupin is what he would have looked like if the boy had grown older, if Saint could have seen him grow up. Replication, Saint’s heart aches as his stare blanks. Vivid imagery attacks him, flooding, a nightmare of its own accord. Regrets, pain, drawn back.

“…There’s no reason to hurry.”

Absent, Saint manages to lose himself in the pull.

The orphaned boy he took care of is looking up at him; he is trapped in replay. Saint sees him smiling, hand in his. Every day following the promise, the swear that he would not be left alone. Saint could remember lifting the boy up, looking through thin eyes, examining his expression. The weak child that had been digging through garbage, parent-less, hapless as he coughed and struggled no longer existed, being replaced by a proud and dedicated to his _savior_ personality. The vibe stayed relatively silent, and Saint places his support on respect and… _love?_ Perhaps, nearly _father_ -thought.

**_“_** _Don’t leave me alone… I’ll be useful_ _,”_ he whispers. The thoughts, twinges, regrets, pains… they come and go in full force and there’s nothing Saint can do. His mission, this boy, mistakes, tightness, _no_.

_"…Of course not. You’re doing quite fine_ ,” Saint tells the boy. That’s all he can let out for the moment.

_“Thank you…_ ” The boy even sounds more like…

Saint squeezes his hand, apologizing to him, to everyone, to his mistakes he’s made. The boy stares up, confused, but grips back.

_“You’re here, and that’s what matters!_ ” There is a cheer in the child’s voice that Saint places to _him_ too. Lively, the likeness rivets his heart and captures him. And yet time passes, regardless of protests. Faux happiness shatters.

The water becomes tainted by toxins he adds, an attempt at giving the infected a peaceful sleep. _Save him for last…_ It is evident that he is attached, that everything is becoming difficult. The only constant in this boy’s life, his wide brown eyes watching him as the late nights of helping him sweep and tousle his brown hair. The young boy has the vigor Saint never thought he would display, the willingness, the pursuit of utility.

The small hands of the eight year-old reach out to wrap around larger ones. _“Don’t leave me. Don’t… leave me all by myself_.” The young voice speaks, fear quaking his body. Eyes widen as Saint chokes back all the emotions he can. _Resisting…_ Blood stains his clothing, his sword shaking as he drops it not. This child, the one that he grew foolishly close to, puts up a fight he can barely manage. He is crying, begging not to be left alone.

It takes all Saint’s strength to sheath his sword, rise, and run away. The boy’s suffering before his eyes is heart-aching; he cares far too much, so much more so than he should.

The sky clouds as Saint slides to a halt once he feels he is far enough. He… dooms the world again, understanding his desire to help Lupin, the unconscious coming, the exact looks haunting him.

“I am dearly sorry… Lupin…”

Saint withholds years of tears as much as he can control himself to do so, but he can’t help it. It’s difficult, it’s welling, combating, embracing, swallowing.

While Saint suffers his memory, Lupin stands too quickly, nearly falling over before Saint catches his hand, squeezing it. However – where had that _sorry_ come from?

“Saint… are you alright? That look you’re giving me is pretty intense. If anything, I probably should be apologizing to _you.”_

A curious glint awakens in Lupin’s eyes as he waves his hand before Saint. A blank stare – and… were those tears? – does nothing to compliment the paling look the Count has waning upon him.

“We appreciate what you do for us, I especially, but even you have your limits, don’t you? It’s my goal to help  _everyone_ here, and return the favor to you, and it starts with not letting you look like you’re about ready to crack.” Lupin attempts to dispel the atmosphere with a laugh, something he can only hope will work.

"I lived in a hell far deeper than any you could imagine.”

The sentence leaves Saint quickly. He too is attempting to break his trance, his stress, his negative reminiscence; it is necessary, absolute, for him to stay strong. 

Lupin can’t understand what Saint has been through, of course. He is not Saint. But he can extend himself to the man who has extended back, time and time again. 

“Saint, really, don’t push yourself. That’s what you say to me, right?”

Death, encircle, enclose, entrap, Saint tries to laugh, a light chuckle coming through.  

"I know, Lupin.”

He would… try to be there, through it all. There are more questions he has about Idea’s motives. Don’t let Lupin know, yet or ever. A burden he wishes to bear, alone, is still his pain. There needn’t be more stress on the boy, on Lupin, Let him be helped, succeed. Trial.

“There’s nothing wrong, friend. I am merely appreciating how the structure of our home has changed.”

_Our_. Deliberate. His own hell still fires within him, taking him, taunting and torturing him.

Lupin can’t read him in total, but he does know something is _amiss,_ festering and pestering. A tiny,  _minuscule_  glimpses at the truth, Lupin never picks up on everything regarding him, He hums, “If you want, we can take a break. I can go-”

"No. I’d rather you not hazard the fine cupware.”

Surprise, mock offense, Lupin plays a pout, a feigned sadness. Saint spots the reflection of his young child, the one he stayed beside when others abandoned.

Moments, hours, _time_ passes. Lupin’s eyes droop as Saint stays wide awake. His thoughts stimulated as a sleepless night meets him.

Lupin doesn’t yet want to fall; he feels like _Saint_ needs him, but tiredness wants him, beckons him, The air, a lot glummer, a lot more _tense_ than he could really place a tangible reason to, aside from Saint’s need. He wants to understand the man who helps him. He wants to give his all, as if a force is willing it.

The matter of Cardia, the _glue_ , and how Saint could _find_ again.

Lupin, behaving stubbornly, pretends even more so like he’s not sleepy, as if the whispers and lulls of a darkening sky don’t gesture for him to join. The desk, solid, should not be so inviting. But Lupin is drawn. Not a glance to Saint to ask if it was fine, lateness takes it grand toll. Even the energetic and _happy_ man needs to sleep, despite the necessity of his plans, of the restriction of time. Lupin can’t hesitate, can’t allow a night like this, when Saint has actually shown signs of mild distress, his poker face broken, cracked in spots by misty, graceful eyes.

The childlike antics of Lupin that sometimes pass are more than enough to cause Saint to wish to retire aside, but he doesn’t want to leave Lupin’s side. The promise to the boy rings. Perhaps he can grant himself the ability of fulfillment. Nothing much of a second chance, really, but of a separate beginning. Lupin is special, as is every single one of the residents at the mansion.

Once everything passed, Saint would have no qualms leaving the mansion to Lupin as he took a leisurely disappearance. There was no reason to tangle Lupin in a web of deep damages any longer than need be. The boy… had already been through too much, far enough. Lupin doesn’t know _who_ he resembles; it would take breathes that needn’t be used, explanations that were complicated a past he couldn’t speak.

Lupin nods off at the table, leaning over his papers, finally giving in. Saint chuckles, moving Lupin’s head carefully and placing a blanket over his shoulders before lightly taking the pen and adding a few notes. Saint can’t help but want to help Lupin in everything he can.

“Saint…” Lupin mumbles, causing Saint’s attention to linger upon Lupin’s features. His sleeping face almost gives him a look of vulnerability, one so rare to see on the gentleman thief. Again and again, Saint begs for forgiveness for deception in his head. The words never slip as the semblance grows. _Perhaps_ , he is tired as well.

es, Lupin?” Saint humors his resting friend, as if a response is possible.

“Together… Always together… right?”

Words ring and Saint freezes. Those words, the manner of weakness that is indefinitely caused by the state of Lupin… Saint holds his head and proceeds to take a seat on the unoccupied chair nearby. Little, white lies his wishes he never has to say, memories he repeats.

“…Yes, that’s right, Lupin.” Saint says, as if mirroring his words of the past will help him. At the very least, his tone is much more relaxed than those hundreds of years past.

There’s a lot of things Saint knows: the semblance Lupin holds to the young boy of his past is far too similar to coincidental. Was… _He_ choosing a test such as this, a reminder of his small life and the mark on history that was ultimately his fault, how doing something to prevent catastrophe now will – while surely not atoning for the suffering of the past – protect the future?

A question lingers, and Saint ponders upon it. Lupin has far beyond a doubt proven a sort of _‘usefulness’_ that had once been searched for by the young boy he had taken into his heart. The two are vastly different, yet strikingly similar. Now, Saint has to conclude his desires, compare them to that of Idea’s. Poison, Saint needs to keep them – Lupin – far from it, if he can help it. He’d take care of everything; that’s the least he can do, considering he has to keeping smiling and lying.

Lupin babbles more in his sleep, with Saint hardly finding any of it audible with clarity. The words he does, however, he can’t help but smile softly at. Lupin is far too precious a friend, too important a notice, too _needing_ of his ultimate trust. Saint pushes aside his lies, the lingering of betrayal, to comfort, to be there for the boy, for Lupin.

In his dreams, Lupin sees extended arms, comfort, a familiar smile and extended hand. He reaches out and grasps it, something he does to the real Saint as well. Saint prays that, if the truth escapes him (Lupin being no fool and fate being rather cruel), things can still come back to this: a friendship brimming with understanding. He wants not to mend, but to retain. Lupin’s sleep talk, his hand laying atop of Saint’s. The Count feels it rude to remove himself from the room.

Lupin’s short release, a small that is characteristic of him, but reminds Saint of the past passes and Saint listens.

“Not alone… thank you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, basically, we use this concept in everything now, so it shows up in later drabbles of mine as well. Because of the lack of description for the boy, it sticks.


	19. You Look Really Tired

Yawning, Lupin certainly won’t let a little call for sleep get the best of him – _him_ , Arsène Lupin, give in so easily? Never! He’d sleep when he finished up setting up everything, he concludes, and it really couldn’t take more than a few more  _hours_ , and few more measly sets of minutes, a few more second of absolutely easy mental fighting. With a push of spilling-over pride, Lupin presses through any _weakness_ completely ready to take on the world! Or more, escape it, but no matter.

He works into the wee hours, a terrible habit by any means, but he’s being productive at the very least. He taps his fingers to his desk, rapidly scribbling out plot details as if nothing else mattered, as if his mind was merely on it and not on the taps of footsteps outside this _‘study’_ of his. Those don’t matter; he is much too occupied with the task at hand.

What Lupin provides himself is a one way ticket to collapsing on the sofa (or the floor) after solo heists, usually. There are days when he makes it to his room, but it’s usually he tries, and then is assisted in a friendly manner back.

For the larger heists, the ones that have triple importance, he manages sleep quite effectively, often after encouragement and concern from a man he, for the time being, trusts to the last letter. The sense of familiarity, underlying promises, uncertain meanings, Lupin clings to these ideas without knowing it. Vulnerability is not to be shown, but walls, all tight in the glory of not having such holes in defenses, fall.

In fact, a shadow of a child - ah? Are those movements of darkness against the well-furnished backdrops normal? Clanking, Lupin blinks with glazing eyes, but… When had his head come to rest against the desk? His own so distant… What hour had it come to? The morning? His eyes can’t resist shutting, his breathing soft as he meets the friendliness of dreams.

Taps of footsteps, barely audible, flutter down the hallway. The doorknob to the room Lupin stays in wobbles and the door is pushed open. Lupin sleeps as a master of hiding would expect, practically soundless, though his papers, rather scattered on this time. Amusement lights the man’s eyes as he turns down the light. In a few hours – or perhaps more, for once – Lupin would awaken, and he could say his piece.

His attention turns beside the gentleman thief extraordinaire.

“Oh?” Brief, he shakes his head, then fully in focus, drawing over his usual gift of a blanket – this seems to happen often. “You deserve your sleep, Lupin. We wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself.”

Lupin stirs not long after Saint reopens the door to exit.

“You’ll… be back, right?”

“…Why would I ever dare leave you all before we’ve concluded our journey?” Saint says softly, his gaze lingering for a moment. Sleep-talking, frequent moments of the most obvious vulnerability, a side Saint knows only he has witnessed. It proves further that everyone in the household had secrets, pasts unspoken, remaining issues that seize the back of their minds. They all chase retribution, reparation, mending.  Saint understands this, his words, thoughts, ideas – of Idea and beyond – hidden. He’ll support them, as long as he can, until they _prove_ the world wrong, or they _prove_ him deceitful.

Happiness begins with relief.

Saint closes the door behind him, stopping and placing his hand on the door, a moment still. He’d speak to Lupin when he truly rises for the day. In another world, perhaps this exhaustion could fade, the burden of stress, and they could smile together, the coldness in the corners of Saint’s heart and smile fade, replaced with the warmth of laughter. He willingly teach Lupin and Cardia much more, experience life with the others. Being the young souls they are, anything is possible for them. Yes, in another world, Saint can tell himself of all his plans to help keep Lupin on his tones, but fate plays too grand a role.

Saint is certain Lupin and Cardia, of all people, can change fate. _His_ features had affected him to change the resolve he pressed in the past; why ever not now?

Time passes with incredible speed when thoughts occupy. Lupin’s eyes open, mere hours after he had closed them. He yawns, the blanket falling to the floor in quite the heap. He glances about, darkness gone, shadows no longer dancing, morning fairly greets him. Staying up as long as he had makes him groggy, but a quick look at Cardia and he figures he’ll feel rejuvenated!

He lets out a happy sigh, making sure his files are reordered to perfection but… is that his handwriting? Certain the words he meant, the scripture looks more like… Saint’s? How curious! He shakes off the question and saunters off to wash up and fix his appearance. Just a quick brush of the hair, beam, straighten, and he was A-okay.

Speed, he hurries off to the dining room, late for breakfast, by far, as the others have finished. They exit one by one, Cardia giving Lupin a gentle and bright look as she brushes past him. It _is_ her day to be learning from Van, after all. Saint remains, motioning for Lupin to take his seat beside him.

“Saint, you’re much too kind! Obligations don’t meet you today, do they?”

“No, Lupin. I believe talking to you is a use of my time I’ll not regret.”

Lupin takes his seat, seeing food awaiting him right there. A table set, even when it had been clear he’d sleep past. He’s grateful, for this, for the patience.

“You look really tired.” Saint breaks any thoughts Lupin had stuck on as he eats. Rings under the eyes, his smiles show his fatigue, but he cannot waste away the day sleeping.

“…Do I?” Lupin looks the part, plays the part, feels the part, but he shoves it away. It cannot stay with him, not when Cardia is still searching for answers.

"You do,” Saint answers shortly, “Is your staying up late for the others? For Cardia-san? It’s okay to have your time planning, but you never should overwork yourself. Why – need we see **our** dear gentleman thief so down?”

Lupin laughs, finishing his food. He knows he should listen to Saint, but it’s hard to let go of all he needs to do. He stands, appreciating the meal, and says, “I understand your concerns, Saint, but I’m _so_ close.” His walk away ends in the main room, where he seats himself on the sofa, Saint following silently. Lupin glances over, doziness still biting at him, back arching, leaning, post-meal lethargy courting his friendship, despite him trying to refuse. Brown eyes notice the shadow again, but he can’t manage to open his mouth to question it; his eyes are hardly obeying him.

He lays against Saint, not on purpose, but of already having slipped out of consciousness. Saint is reminded of that one day, hundreds of years ago, when the little boy, recovered, feeling better, had fallen over onto Saint’s lap, snoring. Precious people, all deserving of happiness, of joy, of glee that Saint feels he’s incapable of ever providing. Stacking, cruelty, stained hands – hands he’d never wish to cover with the blood of his closest. He bids this phase of the order to stretch further; he only needs to buy more of the fickle concept, the ceaseless one, in order for the capable Lupin to succeed.

After all, tiredness and weakness are guarded and shaded by everlasting confidence – and Lupin’s chances of failing, when he has the resources (which Saint _will_ provide as best he can), are _zero_.


	20. I Need You Though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two halves of a whole ego, or it is twice as much of an ego when they're one and the same?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Lupinception, another fun time. Again, these are all from my Rp blog that I like keeping log of.

Two halves of a whole – _Arsène_ and _Lupin._ Together, they are two sides of the same coin – or is it two separate coins that work together? No, matter. Perhaps they’re a pair of dice? Their theme song, _One and the Same_ by Devi Lovato and Selena Gomez, plays in the background during their heists, and only they can hear it – probably. When they do notice it, it causes confusion. Though, maybe _era_ consistencies don’t pertain to such greatness. _Eh_ , none of that matters.

Arsène is careful with his steps, a trick like this, easy, even with the count… ing… of steps… _oh snap!_ While it is no distress that met the two, the situation is still a drastic mis-thought, unplanned. Well, there are worse to be in. Duck, dodge, _get_ out. Footsteps akin to those able to be sensed with sensible training, with keen perception, are still among the most difficult to track. Nothing is out of the realm of possibility for Arsène and Lupin! So, they’d be just fine! After all, they are _one and the same_.

They glance over to each other, thoughts sharing, plans growing, preparation setting. Too much? Impossible? _Pish-posh!_

They slink into the courtyard, carefully avoiding treading on Saint’s garden. What time is it? Probably much past the bedtime of a child. Wait, why is… whatever! Good practice! Besides, if even sneaking back home didn’t prove to be a challenge, then how could he be sure his skills aren’t getting rusty?

One and two, they manage to ruffle not a single thing, the plants appreciating their much needed breaks. The night isn’t very young, but should a mater be deterred? Could he really be a master if he was? In Lupin’s case, yes, he would _always_ be one, but it isn’t like he would ever…

Ropes tighten. Not very friendly now, are we? Lupin rises, captured in a trap similar to the one he caught Fran in – set up by Of course, endangering Cardia is any form is something, but warning her about and then only having it out at _night_ , usually, works Arsène. wonders for certainty.

At least Lupin is _sure_ he is brilliant enough to outsmart himself.

He hangs upside down, smile of pride to his mirror as the blood rushes to his head, face reddening. He twists, trying to manage his own skill of getting out of such traps. A few seconds – footsteps much nearer. Arsène should go ahead. What Lupin does, after sorting out his _assurance_ of the _perfect_ plan, is motion the other ahead.

“I need you though.”

“And I need you, _me_ _,_ ” Lupin whispers back. “But _one_ of us needs to make sure to get back inside and not let _other_ be seen like this by the others, Arsène.”

Reluctant, but it works, supposedly. Arsène moves ahead after a long, soft gaze at the still flawless looking, but tragically stuck Lupin. He runs off, allowing Lupin to attempt to free himself once more. Just a bit further, a bit more time, loosening, but dizziness joins him, laughs at him. His wishes of his mirror leaving are reversed, as he appears again.

“Need a hand, Lupin?”

_Damn_ his double for being so devilishly handsome _and_ cunning.

“I wouldn’t mind it, since you are so generously offering.”

Too late. Skilled pursuers move quickly.

“Lupin, are you enjoying yourself?” Saint comes, asking with a light chuckle. Arsène and Lupin know that Saint is like this, excellent at approaching, at being there with a smile that could _kill_.

_ “The famous gentleman thief caught in one of his own traps. What an interesting turn of events, is it not?” _

Arsène and Lupin frown. Saint by himself is far from bad – perhaps even embarrassing to be in a state like this before him – but not awful. _Sholmes_ however… A night stroll? Really? Were the going to come back in and enjoy a drink and chat while awaiting the double Lupin arrival?

“I need you more than ever, _me_ ,” Lupin says as he and Arsène finally manage to undo Lupin’s ensnaring in the trap an take flight – living that down though?

…Probably won’t happen.


End file.
